


The Dynamite Club

by Azmera



Series: The Dynamite Club [1]
Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: (Not Red Lotus Korra), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anarchism, Anarchist Korra, F/F, F/M, No Korrasami (sorry), Red Lotus, Trans Female Character, Worldbuilding, i don't know where i'm going with this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-08
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2018-05-25 14:09:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 49,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6198037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azmera/pseuds/Azmera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Avatar Korra, through the eyes of her enemies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Korra

The future shifted with a spike of ice and a polar bear dog’s yelp.

Far away, eight-year-old Korra woke up screaming.

“Naga!”

* * *

“Congratulations on mastering earthbending,” Katara said.

Korra didn’t smile. “Thanks.” She wondered if her voice sounded as hollow as she felt.

“Aang would be proud of you, you know.”

 _He’s standing behind you. He’s smiling. He thinks that my bending is strong but lacks finesse._ “I guess.”

Katara sighed, put a hand on her shoulder. Korra could imagine Naga resting her head there. “You need to let this go, Korra. I know it was painful, but it’s been five years.” _Five years to the day._ “They didn’t know she was yours. You need to forgive them.”

“I know. But I can’t.”

* * *

“Fire is the element of power,” the White Lotus teacher said.

In the icy mirror behind her, the reflection of Roku said, _Fire is life._

She slid into a form that she knew as easily as breathing, half-remembering a humid weed-choked temple and a dragon’s teaching fire. Flames danced around her, swirling, beautiful.

Roku smiled. _Ah, the Dancing Dragon. Excellent form._

The White Lotus teacher looked at her, disapproval etched deep into her face. “You lack restraint. Fire will consume everything that surrounds it if left unchecked.”

Korra scowled, and killed the sparks that drifted through the air with brutal efficiency. The teacher nodded approvingly.

* * *

Korra resisted the urge to drive her fist into the wall. That would accomplish nothing.

“I’ve been able to firebend since I was five! I was earthbending when I was three! I could waterbend before I could walk!” _Crunch._ Okay, so the wall wasn’t entirely spared her wrath.

Kyoshi observed her, unamused.

 _It is normal,_ she said, _for an Avatar to have difficulty with one element._

Kyoshi rippled into Aang, who said, _Besides. Air is the element of freedom._ He looked around, grimacing. _And this place… isn’t exactly ideal._

* * *

The gap between the tallest building and the outer sentry-wall was six feet. It was shorter than she remembered.

 _Shifts change an hour before dawn,_ Aang whispered. _There is a thirty-second window during which there is no guard watching this wall._

Thirty seconds. That would require planning. Preparation. But she had lived for twelve years behind these walls. She could wait a few days more.

* * *

Korra’s birthday fell near the summer solstice, when the sun hung in the sky, circling lazily like a vulture-hawk looking for carrion. Katara woke her earlier than usual, but the midnight sun made it hard to sleep, so she didn’t protest.

The trip to her parents’ village took a little over an hour by sled. Her parents greeted her at the door of their small hut, just as rustic as it was the day the White Lotus found her.

“Happy birthday, Korra.” Her mom’s smile looked wearier every time Korra saw it.

“Thanks, mom,” Korra said. She hoped she didn’t sound hollow. She really meant it. She thought.

“I made your favorite,” Senna continued, leading her through the house. “Arctic goose-hen with sea prunes.”

“Thanks, mom.”

Korra sat at the kitchen table. The wood was gouged and scarred from countless too-strong knife strokes. The towels hanging near the oven were singed in places, and the appliances were battered. Dinner was delicious, and afterwards her father sparred with her just outside the town, the flying shards of ice glittering in the midnight sun.

Katara returned too soon. “Come on, Korra,” she said. “It’s time to return to the compound.” She followed sullenly.

The sled ride was made in silence. They drifted past huge ice formations, beautiful in their craggy isolation. _What does the world look like from up there?_ Korra thought. _So high up that nothing can touch you, nothing can hold you down. Just you and the wind and the sky and the stars._

Katara stopped her at the outer gate. “I convinced the White Lotus to let you have some time outside, if you’re interested.” The sled reindeer-yak, the only animal outside the compound, looked at her dolefully. Katara held out the reins.

Korra blinked. “No guards?”

“None,” Katara said, smiling. “We think you’re old enough to be outside without supervision for a little while, at least. You’ll just have to be back within the hour, and don’t go over the far northern ridge. The sentries won’t be able to see you that far out. Consider it a birthday gift.”

 _Does she know what she’s doing?_ Regardless, Korra nodded eagerly and grabbed the reins. Katara hugged her, wished her a happy birthday, and went inside.

The reindeer yak was never an animal renowned for its speed, but she had enough of a head start that by the time she reached the northern ridge the sentries would only have just noticed. She pressed on, ignoring the wind and snow.

The Avatars stood in ranks, their faces solemn. Some of them approving, some not. Aang’s eyes were sad as she passed him, but he nodded in understanding.

The sun was at her back. She had Agni’s approval, if nothing else.


	2. Lightning Bolt Zolt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zolt’s day started auspiciously. He’d never been one for omens or any of that spiritual ostrich-horseshit, but the newspaper headline reading _Police lose key witness in trial of Triple Threat boss_ was always a welcome sight.

Zolt’s day started auspiciously. He’d never been one for omens or any of that spiritual ostrich-horseshit, but the newspaper headline reading _Police lose key witness in trial of Triple Threat boss_ was always a welcome sight. He’d been waiting for Luang to flip for weeks, telling his lieutenants to be patient. Breakfast was poached salmon-trout and quail-duck eggs with asparagus and chillies, almost hot enough to make his eyes water.

The drive to work had been pleasantly traffic-free, giving him a half-hour of blessed silence in which to plan his response to the trial news. A something-or-other to Luang’s family, of course, but he’d need to make some sort of press statement as well. The radio crackled just as he was pulling into the Unified Sanitation lot. The eggs were hatching: code that the Equalists were starting to crack. Good. And just in time, too.

The morning was unexpectedly productive: the Equalists they’d caught the week before were finally starting to crack; the cactus juice and poppy tears crops were finally coming in, and in unusually high numbers; Quon had radioed that the Rockslides were finally ready to talk about how they would deal with the Red Monsoons; what’s-her-name, with the dyed red hair, wasn’t pregnant after all; and to top it all off, his people in the Parliament had finally convinced Meixing to drop her annoying campaigning against the Triads.

He tucked into lunch-- lentil soup with grilled picken, because his doctor was adamant that he needed to take care of his heart-- with gusto, and afterward took advantage of his relatively free schedule to relax in his office.

He wasn’t a spiritual man, and he never meditated, per se, but he found that when he had the opportunity, it was nice to clear his mind and deliberately not think about anything for a while. It settled his nerves and helped him focus, and he always felt more alert afterwards.

The peaceful silence was broken by a sudden blare of the telephone. Zolt jerked out of his reverie and glared at the phone on the desk before realizing that it wasn’t the office line that had disturbed him.

He picked up the phone from under his desk, a private line whose number only his most trusted lieutenants knew.

“Zolt here,” he said. “What’s happening?”

“Zolt, this is Baozhai. I’m in the Shichang district. There’s a couple of guys here who said they went in for a routine protection money collection and someone stopped them.”

Zolt rolled his eyes. “So? They get the money, or not?” He picked at a hangnail on his thumb.

“Well--” Baozhai hesitated. “I-- no, but the girl who stopped them, she-- they said she was--”

“ _Sh-- the-- va--ar, I s-air_ ,” someone said in the background.

“They said she was the Avatar,” Baozhai said, sounding resigned.

Zolt snorted. “The Avatar? Who said that?” If it was Quong again with his ridiculous Avatar-twin theory, Zolt was going to _fry_ him.

There was a pause. “Viper,” Baozhai said eventually. “And Bai and Two-Toe Ping are backing him up.”

Zolt sighed heavily. Of all the things his people had to hallucinate, it was the _Avatar_. “Fine,” he said. “Send ‘em over. If I believe ‘em, I’ll have someone check it out.”

“Very good, sir,” Baozhai said, and ended the transmission. Zolt tucked the radio under his desk again. No use trying to un-focus now, not with the potential threat of the Avatar. He shook his head, and turned to the papers he’d set aside for after lunch.

He’d have to renew his contract with South Seas soon. Maybe he could close the loopholes that were leading to a couple pounds of opium going missing every month. Someone was skimming at some point, and if Zolt had his way they’d be drawn and quartered on the deck of the biggest ship in the harbor. But Sokka, that sentimental dolt, had reservations about making examples of workers in such a public way. Maybe if he squeezed him a little harder, threatened to go to Varrick, he would open up the supply chain records…

Some hours later there was a knock at his door. He looked up from his paperwork. Qiu stuck her head in the room. “The three who reported the Avatar here to see you, sir,” she said.

“Send them in,” he said, pushing the papers to one side. He folded his hands in front of him on the desk and settled the least impressed expression he could manage on his face.

Three men, dressed in shabby but flamboyant clothing, shuffled into the room. The short one in the middle, a waterbender judging by the skin at his side, was openly gaping at the decorations, while the tall, mean-looking one was eyeing the windows. Looking for exit points, smart man.

“Gentlemen,” he said, smiling. “Please, sit.” They did so. “So Baozhai tells me you’ve seen the Avatar?”

“Yessir,” the stocky one, probably an earthbender, said.

“I take it she was bending all four elements, then?”

The three hesitated, looking between each other. “No,” the waterbender said. “She was just firebendin’. Dressed like a salamander fresh off the boat, too.”

“And what makes you think she wasn’t just a firebender?”

“Blue eyes,” the trio’s own firebender said. “Never met a born salamander with blue eyes. And she looked, clothes aside, straight outta the Water Tribes.” He glanced at the trio’s waterbender. “Fire Nation’s got pale skin, y’know, ‘n gold eyes and black hair. Girl had skin like Bai--” he gestured to the waterbender-- “an’ brown hair.”

“People do move,” Zolt said. He pinched the bridge of his nose. When would these idiots stop… if he had to listen to every phony Avatar report, he’d never get any work done. “Was there any evidence of her bending more than one element?”

“No,” said Bai, frowning. “But she was movin’ real funny. Keeping her feet flat on the ground the whole time, eyes half closed. Like a cop. Like _Beifong_ , not one o’ the rookie swingers. Dodged all our hits way too fast for a firebender, too. She was slippery.”

“I don’t see any concrete evidence,” Zolt said. The three flinched in unison.

“None o’ my throws went where I wanted ‘em to go,” the earthbender said. “Always a little wide. And it was hard t’ get my center.” He hesitated. “I-- well, I guess firebenders don’t need to worry about that-- but it was like the ground wasn’t sittin’ still under me like it usually does. Everything was kinda fuzzy. Like it was movin’.”

“She moved one o’ my hits,” Bai said. “I’m sure of it. I was aimin’ at her chest and it went wide and she cracked it in half with one hit. An’ I never met a firebender who could stop an ice spear like that.”

“Alright,” Zolt said. “Thank you for your report. I’ll consider it.” He moved the papers back in front of him. The three hesitated. He gestured impatiently to the door opposite them. “You can go.”

They left, and he heard one of them whisper, “Ping, you idiot, I told you that--” and then the door closed.

Well. None of that was proof. Whoever this girl was, though, she was attacking _his_ men on _his_ turf. He pressed the button on the radio. “Qiu,” he said, “have Wattan talk to those three and get a better physical description. I want her found and followed.”

Pushing troubling thoughts of the Avatar returning to his city from his mind, Zolt went back to reviewing the contract with his southern growers.

* * *

A picture of the girl landed on his desk five days later.

 _Well_ , he thought, looking at the photo, _I know what I’m doing tonight_. The girl was eighteen, maybe nineteen, lean and sharp-eyed. Good pair of tits. Not a knockout like the Sato girl he saw in the papers sometimes, or that bombshell mover star Ginger, but still-- powerful-looking. He briefly imagined her naked, tied to his bed--

He shook his head and stuffed the photo in a desk drawer.

“Qiu,” he said into the radio, “any report from the team I assigned to track the girl, the one they thought was the Avatar?”

“They just reported back an hour ago,” she said. “You want me to send them in?”

“Yes.”

The two trackers-- a man and a woman, both inconspicuous enough-- arrived in his office half an hour later. The man was nervous-looking, but the woman appeared composed.

“Welcome,” he said graciously. “Please, sit.” They did. “So,” he said. “Is the girl the Avatar?”

“I think so, sir,” the woman said. The man nodded. Zolt waited for them to continue.

“She’s very… careful,” the man said eventually. “We are very good at following people without them noticing, but still…” he paused. “She looked suspicious sometimes, kept looking back over her shoulder. We almost lost her once or twice.”

“She was paranoid,” the woman said blandly. “Like she thought someone would be following her.” She shrugged. “But that’s not-- we did see her bend more than one element.”

Zolt raised one eyebrow.

“She waterbent her way across a stream when she cut through the park to try to lose us,” the man said. “And she stuck to waterbending after that, but we kept following her at a distance, and she let her guard down. Later, around night-time, she used firebending to light her way down a street.”

Zolt’s other eyebrow went up involuntarily. _Fuck me_ , he thought. _The Avatar’s really here._

“You’re sure,” he said. “You didn’t get her mixed up with someone else, did you?”

“Positive, sir,” the man said. The woman nodded.

“Well,” Zolt said, standing. The man and woman did the same. “Thank you very much for your service. If you’ll talk to my secretary, she’ll see to your compensation… and, I think, a bonus. For the confirmation.”

He showed them to the door, then closed and locked it.

 _Fuck me,_ he thought again. _The Avatar. This is a problem._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's the last of the set up. After this, the real story should get going.


	3. Amon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plotting sedition in a Jasmine Dragon was not what he had envisioned himself doing that morning.

_The Avatar is an eighteen-year-old._ It was still hard for him to wrap his head around sometimes. _I am older than the most powerful person in the world._ Amon shook his head. Just because the Avatar was younger than him, he reminded himself, did not make her any less dangerous. And he’d known that she was younger than him— but knowing this and seeing the dark-skinned girl with fury in her eyes and fire in her hands were two different things.

 _Perhaps the Avatar could be persuaded to our side,_ a part of him whispered, the very, very small part that didn’t mind being a waterbender, that revelled in the power given by bloodbending, that thought _maybe I have the right to put people under my heel._ But no. The Avatar was a bender, and benders were dangerous and reckless and thoughtless to the one, or at the very least misguided.

He had recognized her immediately. His spirit-bending might have been a sham but his spiritual knowledge wasn’t, and one of the many things he’d picked up during his travels was a sort of spirit-sight— nothing so strong as the late General Iroh, who could see spirits in the physical world, but something close. A sort of glow, a brightness around people of great spiritual power.

The Avatar walked into Sato’s warehouse and Amon had to fight to not look away. Even to his self-taught eyes, she burned brighter than any flame. But she didn’t realize it. She moved like a shadow, silent, deliberately concealing her presence.

Well. If he'd had any doubts about who she was, they were gone now. It would be easy to capture her. She was standing in a warehouse full of people loyal to him, she didn't have much room to maneuver, and she was in range of his bloodbending.

But no. They didn't have the popular support necessary to kill the Avatar, and if someone was going to carry his message, the Avatar would be perfect. (And he wasn’t sure that he’d be able to hold her. She was the sun contained in a person, stronger than he could’ve imagined.)

It was still strange to see her standing in the crowd, as if she were hidden, as if she were an ordinary Equalist nonbender. And to everyone else, he thought, she was. It was only his spirit-sight that was making her visible. He shook his head and slipped back under the stage, fixed the mask in place.

“Please welcome your hero, your savior: Amon!”

He stepped off of the elevator, smiled behind his mask. _Give them a show._

His story was a sham, but a well-constructed, long-considered one. Memories of skull-faced firebenders drowning the coast in flames still haunted the Earth Kingdom, and would for a very long time. Better a peasant, an innocent farmer, than a child of wealth, of power. Scarred and orphaned by the benders they all so despised, and chosen by the spirits they revered. _I know your pain, I have lived it,_ his story said, _and the spirits have heard your prayers._ He was rather proud of it. But what good would a story be without evidence?

Lu Ten and the others led the benders onto the stage. The criminals were smirking, still thinking they had a chance— but they only saw a helpless nonbender, a weakling to be trod upon. Fools. Even Lightning Bolt Zolt, “the most dangerous man in Republic City,” who if he’d earned the title should really have known better, was carrying himself with a self-assured swagger that almost made Amon roll his eyes. Yakone would’ve eaten Zolt alive. Lu Ten shoved Zolt forward. The crowd booed and hissed and called for blood.

“Ah, boo yourself,” Zolt sneered at the crowd. Amon gave the other three prisoners a once-over. Two Finger Tao, Shady Shin, and a wide-eyed, stocky boy he didn’t recognize.

Amon smiled. “My esteemed guests have amassed themselves a fortune through the extortion and abuse of nonbenders. But tonight this ends.” He gestured to Lu Ten, who unlocked the metal cuffs on Zolt’s wrists. Zolt’s eyes narrowed. “In the interest of fairness, of course, the benders will be allowed to defend themselves.”

Zolt shook himself off and glared at Amon. “You’re gonna regret doin’ that, pal,” he snarled.

Firebenders were so laughably ignorant of the water all around them, even inside of them, that he could’ve moved the man’s fire blast without even a thought. But Zolt was so uncoordinated that he didn’t need to— he just sidestepped easily, and slid around to put one hand on Zolt’s neck and the other on his forehead even as lightning arced and cracked around them—

Bending flowed from the center of the soul, but chakras were just pools, easy to bend, easy to block, easy to destroy.

Zolt’s lightning died, and his fire dimmed and faded, leaving the stage silent and dark. Purple-white lines danced across Amon’s vision. Zolt stumbled away from him, threw a punch that should’ve spat a handful of weak flames at him.

“What— what did you do to me?” he whispered, but in the deafening silence of the warehouse it carried like a shout.

Drive it home. “Your firebending is gone. Forever.”

The crowd went wild.

* * *

The Equalists were many and varied, and so it wasn’t hard to learn the Avatar’s daily schedule. He held off on Equalist activities for the time being, preferring to let the terror and uncertainty build among the benders.

The Avatar was staying in a small apartment in Jiangsu Square, one of the poorer parts of the city, which she seemed to share with three or four other people. Not what he’d expect for a bender of her stature. She left every day by nine in the morning, stopped at a small noodle shop on the corner of Morishita and Keiko for an hour or so. She would wander the streets, talking with a firebender boy and a nonbender girl, occasionally performing odd jobs. And she always ended the day at the docks, where his eyes and ears said she just stood and stared out at the bay, watching the sun fall below the water. She would return to her apartment after that.

Three days after he took Zolt’s bending, he cancelled his appointment with Hiroshi and went to follow the Avatar.

* * *

“Oh, excuse me, ma’am,” he said, bending to retrieve his papers, playing the perfect, docile nonbender. The Avatar stooped to help him gather them. This close, her spirit light was less intense. Manageable. She was a perfectly ordinary-looking girl. A little prettier than average, but no knockout like Hiroshi’s daughter. Brown hair cut short, a small, delicate nose, dark skin, and eyes the color of the sky near the sun. He took a step back, trying to reorganize the water-logged papers in his arms.

“I’m so sorry,” she said. “Here, let me—” she gestured and the water drew away from the forms, leaving them more or less intact, even if the writing was a little blurry. A move that took more control than he’d expect of the Avatar, by all accounts a bend first, ask questions later type.

“Thank you,” he said, tucking the papers into his coat.

“Oh, no, it was the least I could do. My fault in the first place, crossing the street without looking where I was going. Still not used to Republic City traffic laws, you know. Cars go the other way in the Caldera.” She tilted her head just a little, and an odd look flashed across her face. Apprehension, he thought, and something he couldn’t identify. “Listen, it’s five o’clock, right? Let me buy you a drink. As an apology.”

“Thank you,” Amon said, “but I do not drink.” Not with the Avatar, at any rate.

She frowned. “Oh. Coffee, then? Tea? I feel bad,” the Avatar said.

Amon checked his watch, a reflex buying him time to think. He should refuse, but this would provide a unique opportunity to study the Avatar in a non-combat situation. “I suppose I have time for tea, if it’s quick,” he said. The more known about your enemy, the less they can surprise you.

“Great,” the Avatar said. “There’s a Jasmine Dragon just up the street.” He wrinkled his nose automatically; their teas were either far too weak or drastically over-brewed for his taste. “Yeah, yeah, I know,” the Avatar said, apparently laughing at his expression. “But it’s cheaper than most places around this spirits-forsaken rich place.”

Amon almost mentioned that they were in Roku Square, hardly what he would consider wealthy, but let the comment pass. Instead, he followed the Avatar down the street and into the tea shop.

She bought two Yunnan Golds and poured a generous amount of cream and sugar in her own. They sat at a table near the front of the shop, away from the majority of customers. A large plate-glass window looked out onto the street.

There was an awkward pause once they’d sat. The Avatar removed the lid from her tea and wrapped her fingers around the cup, breathing in and out steadily. Firebending, probably, to cool it. Amon watched, his eyes narrowed. He adjusted the temperature of his own tea to his liking and prodded the tea bag a little, though he wouldn’t drink anything bought by the Avatar in a thousand years.

The Avatar looked out the window, watching passersby with the sort of detached interest that spoke of long stretches of time spent alone, absently drumming her fingers on the table. Amon studied her face. She was younger looking than he had expected. Chronic insomnia, by the bags under her eyes. The lines on her face suggested field work— which, why was the _Avatar_ doing field work, like a common day laborer? Her face was emotionless, but he could feel her heart beating faster than it would have if she were really that calm.

“So,” she said finally, turning back to face him. Her heartbeat sped up. “You do a pretty good Fire Nation impersonation, but you’ve got some accent issues.”

He blinked. That was honestly not what he was expecting.

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand,” he said carefully. “I’m from the Northern Water Tribe.” Which was true.

“Uh-huh,” the Avatar said, stirring her tea with a twirl of her finger. “I’m sure you really are. But your accent needs work, Amon.”

His tea froze solid. The Avatar smiled.

He forced himself to breathe out, and the tea returned to a gently-steaming temperature. He paused, letting his heartbeat settle.

“I think there’s been some mistake,” he said. “I’m— my name is Kesuk. I’m from the Northern Water Tribe. Agliluk Tribe.”

“Sure, that makes sense,” the Avatar said, her eyes narrowed. Her heartbeat was evening out. “But when you’re pretending to be Amon, you’re pretending to be from the Fire Nation. The Eastern Islands, you say. I’ve spent a lot of time in the area, so I’m telling you that your accent needs work. It’s passable— not great, but alright.”

Amon considered this for a minute. The Avatar sipped her tea and looked out the window. Politely giving him space, even if she was sitting only a foot away from him. _How_ she knew was less important than why she was _admitting_ that she knew. Why give away such an advantage, when she could expose his secret to the world? She wouldn’t now, would she? Finally, he sighed. “How did you know?”

“I recognized your stance,” she said. “It’s solid. More than a north pole waterbender’s would normally be. And your voice. It’s deep, you know. Distinctive.” She squinted at him. “Have you thought about having a stand-in give your speeches so you’re more anonymous? Obviously not the ones that involve you fake energybending, but if it’s just talking someone else could pull it off.” Perceptive, and a manipulator. He revised his opinion of her, ever so slightly. More dangerous than he’d assumed.

“I did, in the early days,” he said stiffly. “I find my charisma hard to match, however, so I no longer employ body doubles.” And one or two of them were getting too big for their boots, trying to take the movement in directions he didn’t want.

“Shame,” she said, taking a gulp of her tea. Still nervous, but getting calmer. “Would’ve been an interesting twist. It would make it hard to stop the movement, you know. If the police, or the Avatar, catch you— how do they know it’s the real you?” Again, she was more perceptive than he’d’ve thought. He had underestimated her, and badly.

“Why are you talking to me about this, Avatar?” he said impatiently. _Why are you trying to help me? Why are you treating me like an ally? A confidante?_

“So we both know who we are,” she sighed. “Thought I was doing a better job of hiding it.”

He shook his head. “Your spiritual power is— unmistakable. I knew from the minute you walked into the rally.”

The Avatar sighed again. “Well. Everyone expects us to be enemies, but we don’t have to be. And since we know who we are, we could… coordinate.” Amon blinked. She was full of surprises. “I’ve heard your pitch before,” she continued. “And you’re not wrong. There’s a power imbalance that needs to be fixed. But it’s not a matter of bending.”

His eyes narrowed. “Easy words, from the Avatar,” he said.

“Says the waterbender,” she snapped, and immediately seemed to regret it. “I— It’s not _only_ bending, then. You’re right that bending does give people certain… advantages. But it’s not the be all end all cause of inequality.”

“What makes you think this?”

“I spent a lot of time on the road, in the Earth Kingdom and the Fire Nation. About half the lords there aren’t benders. Neither are a big chunk of the business owners, the really wealthy ones, the robber barons, here. It’s a fifty-fifty split in the higher-ups of society. And I think it’s the higher-ups that have to go. The corrupt politicians, the greedy business people, the ones using their power, bending or not, to keep everyone else down.”

“You’re an anarchist, then?” he said, unable to keep the skepticism out of his voice. The spirit of the earth incarnate, practically a living, physical _god_ , was against traditional power structures. It was almost comical. And the idea that bending wasn’t, at one point or another, the root of all inequalities— that the ability to shape the world around you _didn’t_ give one person an inherent advantage over the other— that was laughable as well.

“I am,” the Avatar said, raising her chin defiantly. “And don’t give me that bullshit about how I can’t be an anarchist because I’m a political figure. The Avatar isn’t anything remotely connected to this world. I’m the bridge between humans and spirits, a mediator, nothing else. Anything about me solving disputes, everyone else could do that in the right world. I’ve only got the authority that everyone gives me. Which isn’t much, right now. That’s not important. I can get behind this equalism thing, from a certain angle. Triads? They shouldn’t have bending, you’re right. Criminals in general shouldn’t, people who use it to exploit others. But everyone else— they’re just trying to live their lives. Ordinary people don’t deserve to have their bending taken.” _And now,_ he thought, _she tries to dictate terms. Just as arrogant as every other bender activist I’ve met with._

Amon sat back in his chair. “So what do you want me to do, Avatar? Say that a man who can firebend _deserves_ an office job more than a nonbender? Say that a woman who can waterbend should be prioritized for medical treatment? A child of nonbenders should be placed into inadequate schooling because of his parents’ _disability_? That a man who cannot bend should be denied the job he needs to feed and house his family, leaving them on the streets? And that when he turns to crime, because that is the only road open to him, he should be beholden to the _bending_ triads?” The Avatar winced. Her heartbeat was picking up— anxious. “The problems in this city run deeper than you realize, Avatar, and you have no authority in this matter. How long have you spent in this city? What gives you the right to sit and dictate your terms to me, as if I should bow and scrape for your approval?”

She cringed and drew back. “No no no no, I’m not saying— okay, it’s, it’s— the— society is messed up, yeah, but the way to fix it isn’t by getting rid of all benders!” The tea in front of her was starting to simmer. He could feel the heat radiating off of her. “And it wouldn’t even work! Removing a person’s bending doesn’t take it away for good! You just— this won’t—”

“What would you have me do, then, Avatar? Sit in endless council meetings, wait my turn and say ‘please’ to the bigots who rule this city? Ask _politely_ for the chance to make things just, rather than bring about the change we need?”

“No! But—”

“I will not be tangled in endless bender-imposed red tape, waiting for change while nonbenders suffer under the heels of their oppressors,” he snarled. “If benders will not change their society— and they _will not_ , Avatar, no matter what your naive ideology says— then I will _make_ them change.”

“But you can’t just _make_ people think differently,” the Avatar said desperately. She pushed her tea, half-drunk, to the side, leaned over the table. He shifted back in his chair. “All I’m saying is, is— making everyone a nonbender won’t help as much as you think!”

“So it is better to do nothing and wait for a full solution than to take steps, to provide aid where one can?”

Desperate, anxious sorrow shone in the Avatar’s eyes. “I’m not— I don’t— _no_ , but—”

“I do not believe that we can come to terms, Avatar,” he said firmly.

“Wait,” the Avatar said, looking genuinely pained. “I— I agree with _most_ of what you’re saying,” she said desperately. “And we— we don’t have to be enemies.” She sighed. “I won’t go after Equalists, if you don’t go after peaceful benders. Take out all the Triads you want, even the police— hell, I’ll _help_ with those— but _please_ don’t attack benders just trying to live their lives.”

Amon blinked. “You would help me attack the police,” he said.

“Yeah,” the Avatar said. Still nervous, but calming down. A half-smirk flickered across her face. “What, did you think I was joking about being an anarchist?”

 _Honestly, yes._ He thought for a moment. If the Avatar could be turned to his cause, perhaps… perhaps other benders would listen as well. And he could take their bending later, when the most dangerous criminals were accounted for.

Plotting sedition in a Jasmine Dragon. Not something he had expected to do this morning.

“You are in contact with the police?” he said, a plan crystallizing in his mind.

The Avatar nodded. “Well, kind of. Jinora's teaching me airbending, and I can get information from her if I ask. She knows I'm the Avatar, before you ask. And an anarchist.”

“Very well, Avatar. Here are my terms: I give you my word that we will not attack nonviolent benders. Triads and police only. In exchange, you will provide me with information on police movements and operations, and you will feed the police false information about my plans and whereabouts, and you will, when I ask, accompany me on Equalist raids.”

She hesitated. “I’ll work with you, but I’m not going to be your lackey. If I don’t want to do something, I won’t do it.” He inclined his head. “Alright. I just have one, um, condition. Don’t go after Beifong.”

He raised one eyebrow. “Leave the leader of the police alone?”

“She’s predictable,” the Avatar said. “We know— _I_ know— what she wants and what she’s planning. And she’s not corrupt. We can’t say the same about any of the other police, who might be in Tarrlok’s pocket. Or working for the Triads, spirits only know. Plus— cut off the head of a scorpion-snake and it flails wildly, and you don’t know where the stinger’s going to go. If you leave it there, you can avoid it.”

Amon nodded. He had not, in truth, meant to attack the police chief, but the Avatar’s logic made sense. And, he suspected, it had something to do with not angering her airbending teacher. “I believe these terms are agreeable, Avatar,” he said coolly. “You live in Jiangsu Square, yes? I’ll have someone contact you to finalize the details.” He drained his mug of tea in one gulp. “Thank you for the tea. It was… enlightening.”

As he left, he caught the Avatar’s small smile through the window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here's Korra. She's a little different, this time around. Let me know what you think.


	4. Councilman Tarrlok

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Are you now, or have you ever been, a member of the Equalists?

“Are you now, or have you ever been, a member of the Equalists?” Tarrlok leaned forward. He could feel the man’s terrified pulse from here. Full moon coming.

“No, councilman,” the man said, blood quivering. Telling the truth.

“Thank you. You may go.”

A squirrely-looking man in tattered green, a round flat cap seen better days held tight in his hands. He tottered to the witness stand. Eyes wide, hands shaking, pulse calm.

“Are you now, or have you ever been, a member of the Equalists?”

“No, councilman.” Just the slightest muscle quiver showing his tension.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, councilman.”

He shifted the papers on his desk. Reports of a shabby man in green with a battered round cap shuffling away from Equalist-affiliated warehouses.

“Do you know a Huong? 54, carpenter, Earth Kingdom?”

“I’m sorry?” No he wasn’t.

“Huong. She was recently convicted on charges of hosting Equalists in her home.”

“I— yes, I know her.” The man frowned, twisted his cap in his hands. “She was married to a friend of mine at the factory, Geming. He passed away last year. I— I used to go to her house for tea. We all would, around the factory, to keep her company.”

All lies. Impressive, really, all that made up on the spot. He made a note next to the man’s name.

“Thank you. You may go.”

Are you now, or have you ever been—

The same fucking questions, again and again. Getting nowhere, terrifying the nonbenders, giving Amon and his cronies fodder for their propaganda, frustrating the Parliament, making things harder all around.

But it’s the only option, the only solution. Cast a wide enough net, and you’re bound to catch a tiger-shark.

The clock tower outside tolled five o’clock, and something in the room, some invisible tension, snapped. Suddenly, friendly banter filled the room. _Do you have plans_ and _how’s the kid_ and _hear there’s snow coming. Early, eh?_ He could feel a headache building behind his eyes.

Quietly, he slipped out of the stream of parliament members and returned to his office. He locked the door behind him.

Behind his desk, water rushed over Tui-and-La. He pulled just a little of that into his hands and settled it in a cool press over his forehead.

 

If things were different, he could be on the other side of this.

Are you now, or have you ever been, a bloodbender?

Doesn’t have the same ring. But they would ask, and he would lean forward. Look into the camera. Laugh, flash his perfect white teeth, fold his hands on the desk, tilt his head. “Do I seem like a bloodbender to you?” he would say, a sardonic twist to his words, upwards tilt in his eyebrows. Councilman Tarrlok, the model upright citizen, twice voted the most handsome politician in the Republic by the _Gazette_ , volunteer at nonbender soup kitchens on the weekends, a _bloodbender_? Why, the sheer audacity of such a claim. The courtroom would laugh. They would apologize, move on.

Or—

Are you now, or have you ever been, a bloodbender?

“I thought you’d never ask,” he would say, and stand, crack his knuckles, then _twistpull_ , just like Dad taught. Screams would echo through the courtroom. The radio would catch all of it, crunch of bone and rip of muscles and _squit_ of popping eyeballs.

Or—

Are you now, or have you ever been, a bloodbender?

“I am,” he would say. Murmurs would explode around the courtroom. They would hammer on the desk and bellow for silence. _Twistpress_ and a hush would fall unnaturally quick. “My father was Yakone,” he would say, his hands curled into fists to preserve the the ringing silence. “I was born in the Northern Water Tribe. I had a brother named Noatak, and my father trained both of us in bloodbending. Even not at the full moon.” _Release_ and a collective, enormous intake of breath. “As you can see.” Smile for the camera.

But that’s not how it is.

* * *

The Equalists had been operating for _years_ before Tarrlok found them, tucked away in a little Lotus Square apartment, packed in like spider-rats, eyes wide like saucers to hear a man spout empty platitudes about bender oppression.

They’d dug in like ticks, too, when he went back to arrest them for fire code violations. He’d been a junior councilor then. He hadn’t had the authority to issue executive measures, hadn’t been able to say _They’re Equalists, arrest them_ and have people listen. He lost five of his men on that raid, but he’d finally woken the city up to the roach-rats in the walls, and it wasn’t long before the rest of the council finally, _finally_ listened to him.

Contrary to what Tenzin liked to whine to the press, the task force wasn’t some sort of power grab on his part. The police were having trouble dealing with the mobile, technologically-advanced Equalists; what better way to respond than with equally mobile forces, equally advanced technology? Their success rate spoke for itself, even if it had been dropping in recent weeks.

Beifong certainly wasn’t going to change, so if he pulled a few strings and perhaps engineered her early retirement, then it was all the better— there was no place for her, the woman who still insisted on unpadded armor because it “improved mobility” even though it was a walking weak point for the Equalists’ shock gloves and stun grenades. Who thought that the war against these terrorists would be won not by wiping out their ideology, but by taking out their leaders. Who thought that if they simply arrested enough people, the terror would end.

The Emergency Powers bill had passed quickly, with a two-thirds vote of Parliament and all of the councilors but Tenzin’s approval. In situations where the Republic is declared to be under a state of emergency, the Chancellor (Tarrlok) is granted special powers, including control over the police and the ability to review and veto certain newspapers’ contents. Not the most subtle way to accomplish his goals, but it worked, and if it made Tenzin hate him, well, what else was new?

He’d met with Saikhan the night before the bill passed. “I’m trying to re-stabilize this city,” he’d said, as Saikhan sipped his beer. “We need everyone to work together, and we can’t do that when the police refuse to cooperate.”

“I agree, Councilman,” Saikhan had said, expression dour, “but Lin won’t listen to me. She thinks the laws are too restrictive against nonbenders. I’ve tried to enforce those new curfew laws you’ve passed, but she stops me every time.”

Tarrlok had hummed. “I’ll see what I can do,” he’d said. “And if our esteemed chief of police does happen to leave her post, you would be first in line for her job, of course.” Saikhan, ever grim-faced, had merely nodded.

The morning after the bill passed, he called Lin to the Capitol building.

“You have two options, Lin,” he said, his hands folded in front of him on his desk. “You can step down quietly, citing age and the stress of the job. You will receive a full pension and health benefits, and a commendation from the city for your work against the triads.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Or?”

“Or I will have you removed. You have been disrupting my efforts to neutralize the Equalists at every turn. I can’t have the head of my law enforcement actively opposing me.”

“This isn’t _your_ law enforcement,” Lin said, her blood singing with fury. “It’s the Republic City police, and you aren’t Republic City. I answer to the city, not to you. And what you’re doing is hurting the city. Nonbenders are terrified, and you’re just making Amon’s arguments stronger.”

Tarrlok sighed. “Lin,” he said, “I’m trying to be reasonable. We need to stop the Equalist menace, and we need to be willing to do anything and everything we can. All of the laws passed against nonbenders are 

“I’m not going to sit and let you persecute more than half the city’s population for the actions of one lunatic,” Lin snapped. “That’s not the city I swore to protect. And I won’t stand aside and watch you twist the police— _my_ police— into some sort of Dai Li secret police.”

“I’m afraid you no longer have a choice,” he said. “When Parliament approves the state of emergency, the police department will come directly under my control. I will have you removed.”

Rage boiling her blood, Lin ripped the badge off of her uniform. “Fuck you, and fuck your task force,” she had snarled. She threw the dented badge onto his desk. “I’m not going to be a part of your power trip.”

In two days, Parliament had declared a state of emergency, the police had come under Council control, and Saikhan had taken the helm. Equalist attacks had declined, the streets were quiet, and the whole city seemed to be holding its breath, waiting for the calm to break.

And then, like the first crack of thunder signaling an oncoming storm, the police headquarters were attacked.

Retaliation for the Dragon Flats raid, the Equalists claimed, and an plot to free the “oppressed civilians unjustly arrested.” In any case, he went into the police station expecting a routine chi-blocker fight, but he found Amon himself and the spirits-damned Avatar, who hit him with three solid fire-blasts and what had to be half of a wall before Amon called her off, and they disappeared into a waiting airship. Again.

Finding the Avatar in support of the Equalists was the match that lit the already-precarious powder-keg that was Republic City.

Overnight, reported Equalist numbers had swelled, and riots broke out in almost every poor or nonbender section of the city. Equalist graffiti and propaganda appeared on every street corner. Crowds of nonbenders stalked his task force wherever they went, watching with vulture-hawk-like intensity as they executed operations, occasionally booing and pelting the officers with rocks and garbage. He could only hold them back for so long before they retaliated against the mobs. And state of emergency or no, Parliament didn’t like the police attacking “innocent civilians.” Things were getting out of hand, and he needed to _do_ something.

* * *

Shattering glass and wood jerked him from his thoughts.

Shards of broken glass and splinters of wood littered the office floor. The Avatar stood in the window, snow drifting in behind her. Heat shimmered around her hands.

“ _Tarrlok_ ,” she snarled.

He sat up and let the water drop away from his forehead.

“Avatar Korra,” he said, smiling icily. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

She stalked forward, glass crunching under her boots. She didn’t seem to notice. “We need to talk,” she said, her voice like iron.

“Ah. What’s on your mind?” Tarrlok said. He glanced at the door. The other councilors would have left by now, and the Parliament members would be either gone or in the hearing rooms, far away from his office.

“My friends,” she growled. “You took them. I want them back.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about, Avatar,” he said.

“Don’t play dumb, Tarrlok, I know you know your task force arrested my friends. _Again_. Do you need me to remind you how bad it went last time for all of you?”

_We were unprepared for fighting the Avatar,_ he wanted to say, _a mistake we will not make again._ Instead, he said, “I assure you, Avatar, your friends were arrested for entirely valid reasons. Breaking curfew, inciting violence against the state, trespassing on government property. There are numerous charges against them.”

“ _An unjust law is no law at all_ ,” the Avatar said. “And your laws are more than unjust.”

“And yet,” Tarrlok said, narrowing his eyes, “they are what we have. If there were no laws, and no police to enforce them, there would be chaos. A yawning chasm devouring the entire world. Is that what you want, Avatar? Violence in the streets? Lawlessness? Barbarism, where the strongest has power?”

“That’s a false dichotomy, and you know it, Tarrlok,” she said. She took a step towards him, radiating menace. “But I’m not here to discuss philosophy. I’m here to get my friends back.”

_This was the plan_ , he reminded himself as the Avatar stalked closer to him, heat wavering around her fists. _This is what you wanted._ “Well, Avatar,” he said. “I could certainly secure your friends’ release, provided you prove more… agreeable, in the future.”

The Avatar’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not your pawn, Tarrlok,” she said, voice dangerously low. “Yours or anyone else’s. You can’t _control_ me.”

“What do you call that ‘alliance’ you have with Amon? A partnership of equals? Who, precisely, gives the orders, when you attack my men?” Doubt flickered across the Avatar’s face. “I don’t want to control you, Avatar. In fact, if you agree to renounce the Equalists publically, I give you my word that you won’t have to fight for me. I will release your friends. You can leave this city as easily as you came. That will be the last you hear of me.”

“Fuck you,” the Avatar spat. “You’re worse than Amon. At least he _cares_ about these people. What do you care about besides your own power?”

“I care about this city, Avatar,” Tarrlok said. He was edging dangerously close to anger. “Which is more, I think, than you can say. You’ve been here, what, three months? Four? Where were you when the Equalists first appeared? Off traipsing across the globe?” Her eyes narrowed further. “I want what’s best for this city, which means stopping these criminals in any way I can, as quickly as I can.”

“You’re abusing your power to take advantage of defenseless civilians. _You’re_ what’s tearing this city apart.”

He was on his feet before he realized what had happened. “I’m doing what’s best for this city, Avatar,” he said. “I offered you the chance to work with me.” She was favoring her left side, the relic of an old wound. No need to pull out the bloodbending unless things got desperate. “But I can see that it’s pointless. So now you’re in my way.”

He shot a water whip at her from the flood behind him; she dodged, lightning-quick, and he felt the water ripped from his grasp as it looped around her, returning towards him in a spear of ice aimed at his chest that he narrowly evaded. It embedded itself in the wall behind him, cracking the carved Tui-and-La.

“You wanna fight me again? Fine by me,” the Avatar said, her posture loose and ready. “Just remember how bad it went for you last time. Amon’s not here to stop me.”

She punched both hands forward and he had a split-second thought of _fire, dodge_ before he rolled out of the way and encased himself in a sphere of water boiling to steam under the Avatar’s fire, clouding the room. He couldn’t keep this up for long, even with the water behind him. Blue flickered within the Avatar’s fire, an inch from his nose. _Run_ , something in him said, and he pressed _out_ and steam filled the room and he bolted for the door. He crashed through the door, followed by a dozen striking water-tentacles, one of which caught him in the back, another around his ankle, tripping him. He slammed into the wooden balustrade. It creaked under his weight. He looked down. Twelve foot drop onto marble flagstones— not pleasant, but survivable.

“I should’ve told people I was the Avatar a long time ago,” the Avatar said, walking through the steam. “I’ve wanted to do something like this for years.” She stomped one heel into the floor and the balcony crumbled.

He hit the floor with a jarring thud that knocked the wind out of him. He lay flat on his back for a half-second, blinking stars out of his vision.

_Crash._

He rolled to his feet, his shoulder burning, pain stabbing his side every time he took a breath. “What now, weasel-rat?” the Avatar sneered, standing in the crater she’d just made. “You’re all out of water.”

Not quite.

Fire flared in the Avatar’s hands, and she charged at him.

_Catch pull twist_

The Avatar lurched to a stop. Fire flickered out an inch from his nose, close enough for him to feel a wave of heat wash over him. “Y-you’re a bloodbender,” she stuttered, eyes widening in real fear for the first time this evening. Her hands contorted unnaturally, curling towards her torso.

“Observant,” he muttered, gritting his teeth. He was out of practice. She could still talk. He redoubled his efforts, pressing her down onto her knees.

“How,” she gasped.

“There’s a lot that you don’t know about me, Avatar,” he said. “But as I said. You’re _in my way_ and you need to be removed.”

She scowled. “I’m—gonna—kill—you,” she gritted out.

“Perhaps,” he murmured, and squeezed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was my first time writing a fight scene— how'd I do?
> 
> Let me know if there's any continuity errors.


	5. Councilman Tarrlok, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He pulled over five miles outside of the city, onto a scenic overlook stop whose view he ignored. At this point, all that the glittering skyline reminded him of was how monumentally, royally _fucked_ he was. Kidnapping the Avatar? What had he been thinking?

Hiding the purchase of an entire mountain was surprisingly easy when you handled the Council’s expense reports and could write it off as part of the Public Land Use and Development Act. The fact that only a three-room shack, a barbed-wire fence, and a fuel depot had ever been built there escaped the council’s notice, and gave Tarrlok a convenient bolt-hole, should he ever need one.

The seer’s sage and poppy’s tears were bought in a seedy part of the docklands. The dealer gave the truck a long, pensive look as she weighed the leaves. Tarrlok growled at her to mind her own damn business. The woman just smiled and handed him a sealed bottle. “Three drops an hour for dreamless sleep,” she said. “And don’t over-use the sage. It’s strong stuff.”

He took it, and handed her double the agreed-upon amount. “For your silence.” Her eyes narrowed suspiciously, but she nodded, tucking the yuans into a pocket. He bid her good-night, and drove away.

He pulled over five miles outside of the city, onto a scenic overlook stop whose view he ignored. At this point, all that the glittering skyline reminded him of was how monumentally, royally _fucked_ he was. Kidnapping the Avatar? What had he been thinking? There was no way he would be able to hold her for long, and when she got out, he knew, she would kill him. If he was lucky. He rested his forehead against the cold metal of the truck’s wall. He could feel her inside, unconscious but on the verge of waking up.

No time like the present.

He crushed the seer’s sage in his hand and squeezed the juice into the vial of poppy’s tears, and shook the mixture gently. He paused, feeling for the Avatar’s heartbeat. Sluggish, but conscious. If she spat fire at him, he could probably catch her before she did too much damage. He filled a syringe and opened the back of the truck.

The Avatar stirred, opened her eyes, and looked at him.

“Tarrlok?” she said, brow furrowed. “What did you do to me?” The metal walls of the truck creaked as she curled her hands. “Where am I? What did you do to me?”

“Nothing yet, Avatar,” he said. He curled his fingers and her arm snapped forward and out. He slipped the needle into her vein and pressed the plunger. “Go to sleep.” He could almost see the drug sweep through her blood. Her eyes fluttered shut.

That would keep her out for… oh, six hours, he guessed, if his contacts in the triads were telling the truth. If he was lucky, considering firebenders’ well-documented resistance to poisons, plus an Avatar’s immune system. And the shack was an hour’s drive away.

The drive was silent, the only sounds the low growl of the engine and the wind howling outside of the cab. Snow swirled in front of the windscreen.

The Avatar was still out when he pulled up to the shack. He lifted her with bloodbending and moved her into the basement. He had some old rope but not much else that would be of any help in containing her, not if she was a metalbender. Sighing, he tied her hands behind her back and her feet together, then tied her to the radiator for good measure. If she woke up with her bending it wouldn’t do much to stop her, he figured, but it would at least buy him some time to run. Maybe he could lose her in the woods outside.

He gave her another dose of sedative, locked her in the basement, and departed.

* * *

It was still before dawn when he returned to Republic City. The streets were quiet and empty. He dropped a note, reading _Avatar kidnapped by Equalists— alliance went sour_ into the mail slots of the _Republic Daily Gazette_ , and the _Chronicle_ and _Sun_ as well— the competent newspapers wouldn’t touch the story without verification, but the trash ones would gobble it up.

He staged an Equalist attack. Threw bolas, taken from the task force confiscation room, across the council chambers. Electrocuted himself in the chest, blinking away unconsciousness long enough to smash the shock glove on the floor of his office. Oh, officers, it was horrible— the Avatar arrived to discuss my policies, late at night— she said she felt guilty for acting so rashly the other day. As we were talking, the Equalists burst through the window and attacked us; the two of us fought against them until they knocked me out and captured her. When I woke up, they were all gone. I didn’t see where they took her.

Tenzin, insipid fool that he was, swallowed the story without reservation, muttering about the treachery of the Equalists and how glad he was that his daughter had managed to stay free of them. His daughter, meanwhile, looked unconvinced. He spent most of the day fielding questions from the press and seeing a healer. (The Avatar’s attack had done more damage than the shock glove, and he passed off the cracked ribs and minor internal bleeding as chi-blocking gone wrong.)

At four o’clock, he sent the reporters away and retired to his ruined office, intending to plan an escape from the city. If the Avatar hadn’t already escaped, at least. If she had, then there weren’t many places he could run. The North Pole, perhaps, but he had little like for that backwater even if the Avatar wouldn’t find him.

At eight o’clock, his office phone rang.

“Tarrlok?” Tenzin sounded… troubled. Then again, he always sounded like he had a stick up his ass. “Are you available for an emergency council meeting?”

“Of course,” he said. “Does this have something to do with the hunt for the Avatar?”

“In a sense,” Tenzin said. “I take it you’re still in the Capitol, then,” he continued. “The other councillors and I will meet in the debate chamber in twenty minutes. Please be there.”

“Of course,” he said again, and hung up the phone. He felt a headache coming on.

He made his way down to the council chambers fifteen minutes later. Tenzin was already there, as were Otoha and Iluq. Jianyu was late as usual. And— Tarrlok bit back a curse— lurking in the back of the room were Lin and the Avatar’s friends. The hijra had an unpleasant smirk on her face, and the firebender looked entirely too smug for his liking. A duffel bag sat on the bench next to them.

“Councilman,” Tenzin said, nodding in greeting.

He sat opposite Tenzin at the council table. “What’s going on? Do you have news of the Avatar?”

“We do,” Tenzin said gravely, “but I feel that it would be better to wait until all of our members have arrived.”

“Of course.”

Jianyu took another twenty minutes to get there, and reeked of wine. Tarrlok’s lip curled involuntarily. No matter. If he was drunk, perhaps he would be easier to persuade to his side.

“Thank you for joining us on short notice,” Tenzin said, rising from his seat. “I recently took it upon myself to aid in the search for Avatar Korra, along with Lin and the Avatar’s… friends. We found a series of tunnels under the city acting as an Equalist prison, holding captured police officers and triad members. We did not, however, find Avatar Korra. Kamal—” he gestured to the firebender, who nodded— “interrogated several Equalists, all of whom stated that their… alliance… with the Avatar still held, and that they had not captured her. That you were lying, Tarrlok.”

He raised one eyebrow, careful to keep his breathing even. “You would take the word of criminals over my own? Why would I lie about the Equalists capturing the Avatar?”

“Because _you_ have her, you weasel-rat!” the hijra shouted, standing. “You kidnapped her to get her out of your way!”

Tarrlok looked at his fellow councillors. “Again, are you going to take the word of a convicted criminal over my own?” He tugged down his shirt, displaying the half-healed electrical burn on his chest. “Would I really have done this to myself in the pursuit of such a ridiculous story?”

“Of course,” Tenzin said. “There was no Equalist attack last night. You planted the evidence.”

The firebender stood and approached, bringing the duffel bag with him. “And the smashed shock glove on the floor— that was one of the early models. They’ve completely switched over since Korra joined up.” He tipped the contents of the bag, two shock gloves, onto the council table. “The only people who still have the old models are the police. In the evidence locker.”

_Damn._

“That’s hardly damning evidence,” he said, ignoring the salamander completely. “I assure you, the Equalists attacked us. We were standing in my office, discussing my policies, and they came in through the window. We tried to fight them, but they chi-blocked both of us. Apparently they only wanted the Avatar, because they electrocuted me and when I awoke, she was gone.”

“So you’ve said,” Tenzin growled, “and yet when we checked the Equalists’ prison, there was no sign of her.”

A quiet cough broke the tension in the room. They all turned to the antechamber door, where a young cleaning maid stood, a broom held in front of her like a shield. Her pulse was racing. “You’re right, Councilman Tenzin,” she said, voice quavering. “I saw Tarrlok and the Avatar fight, and I saw him— b-bloodbend her.”

Tarrlok scoffed, but even he could tell it was halfhearted— he was reeling with shock. The building had been deserted, he was sure, but… perhaps he had overlooked the cleaning staff? They were ever-present, practically interchangeable, and he had stopped noticing them after his first year in the building…

“She’s telling the truth,” Lin said from the back of the room. She approached the maid, who shrank back into the doorway, eyes wide. More gently, she said, “Why’d you wait so long to tell anyone?”

“I— I was afraid that— that Tarrlok would find out,” she said, “or that nobody would believe me— I’m just a cleaner, after all, and he’s a councilman, and a waterbender too, and I’m a nonbender— we don’t often get listened to by the police, I’m sorry ma’am, but—”

“That’s quite alright,” Tenzin said, cutting her off. “Thank you for your testimony. I think that’s enough evidence.” He turned to Tarrlok, suddenly filled with steely resolve. “Tarrlok. By the authority of the United Republic Council and my position as deputy Chancellor of the Republic, I strip you of your rank on the council and the powers that come with it, and place you under arrest.”

 _Damn._ He glanced at the other councillors. Iluq and Otoha were nodding in agreement. Jianyu looked perplexed, but it was a majority even without him.

Tenzin raised his hands in the closest thing airbending had to an offensive stance. “Don’t make this any harder than it needs to be. Tell us where you’re keeping the Avatar.”

His lip curled in a sneer, and he sensed Lin tense for a half-second before she struck, and he dodged the metal cable aimed at his head and seized the water in her veins, hers and all of the other peoples’ in the room, Tenzin and the councillors and the damned maid and the Avatar’s worthless friends, filled with a sudden, all-consuming rage, and _squeezed_ until they collapsed, unconscious, their pulses sluggish.

 _I should kill them now, while I’ve got the chance,_ he thought. _It’s not like I’m going to survive this, not once the Avatar breaks free._ He took hold of Lin’s heart, feeling the pulse weakly protesting his grip. Nausea rushed over him, but he ignored it. He started to close his hand, snuff out that final spark of life— and hesitated. They were unconscious. If he ran fast enough, they wouldn’t know where he went. There was no reason to kill them.

He let his hand drop to his side, and exited the council chamber as swiftly as possible.

* * *

He drove in fuming silence, only barely paying attention to the road.

 _Damn her. Damn them. Damn this whole city, Equalists and benders alike._ His thoughts spun in angry currents, all circling around: _this is the Avatar’s fault_. _She_ was the one to disrupt the fragile peace he’d worked so hard to achieve. _She_ gave the Equalists the nerve to attack them, attack the very foundations of the city. _She_ was the reason he was on the run, forced out of his hard-won life in Republic City, his job and his friends and his home, nearly two decades of carefully-planned alliances and networks of influence gone up in smoke in the space of two days.

He couldn’t afford to take her with him, wherever he went. But he couldn’t just leave her in the council-bought shack— then _everyone_ would know that he’d kidnapped her, and he’d never find peace. He had to… to move her. While she was still drugged, while he could still control her. He’d given her enough of that drug to knock her out for perhaps a day. She would be regaining consciousness soon, but if he was lucky she would still be asleep, or at least dazed.

He parked, filled another syringe from the mixture in the glove compartment, and stepped out of the truck. The shack was still standing, which was a good sign. And when he entered the basement, the Avatar was still there, still asleep, still tied to the radiator. Even better. He slipped the needle into her arm once again, and pushed the plunger down. She shifted in her sleep, protesting faintly, and he returned to the upper floor to plan his flight.

He was bent over a map of the Earth Kingdom, tracing possible routes, when he heard an engine idling outside. He checked his watch and frowned; it was nearly midnight, and this was a rarely-travelled stretch of road. Who would possibly be outside?

He gathered water from the tap into a sharp wedge of ice around his hand, enough to take out a single assailant.

The door crashed open.

Amon entered, his hands folded behind his back. His lieutenant, the man with the ridiculous mustache and the goggles, and three chi-blockers followed, effectively blocking the only exit, unless he wanted to go out a window.

“Councilman,” Amon said. “It has come to our attention that you have an ally of ours.”

“What do you care?” He spat, eyes darting between them and the exit. He could take them, probably, but he didn’t want to risk getting to close to Amon, even if he was bloodbent. Amon was calm, but his pulse was… oddly hard to read. Barely there, he would say, but it was more like it was hidden, obscured behind panes of glass. “She’s the Avatar, she’s a bender. You should be thanking me.”

“The Avatar is our ally, for the time being,” Amon said. “You have been spreading lies about our actions." The chi-blockers dropped into defensive stances, and the lieutenant drew his weapons. "It is time for you to be equalised.”

 _Idiot._ “You’ve never seen bending like mine,” Tarrlok sneered, and reached out and _grabbed._

He _twisted_ and pressed the Equalists to the ground. The lieutenant and the chi-blockers crumpled, and Amon staggered to his knees.

But he was slippery, hard to hold, and he recovered and advanced towards Tarrlok. Icy dread washed through him. He pushed down his shock and redoubled his efforts, seizing on the water in Amon’s veins, pushing back and down.

 _Amon kept walking_.

“What— what are you?” Tarrlok whispered hoarsely, abandoning his efforts.

“I am the solution,” Amon said, and knocked him to his knees. He pressed his thumb to Tarrlok’s forehead.

Ice washed through his veins, and he remembered—

_The moon hung, pale yellow and fat, over the mountains on the horizon. The wind carried the scent of ice and salt and seaweed from the sea to the east. Snow swirled around them._

_“_ Now _,” Yakone said, and he was_ compressed _, squeezed by some enormous hand, lifted like a puppet— he tried to scream, but his mouth wouldn’t open— his breathing was ragged and his pulse was roaring in his ears— he couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe—_

_“Good,” his father said, as he gasped for breath and fought down nausea. Sweat drenched his undershirt and snow soaked into his gloves and coat and pants, ice-cold, the wind cutting through the damp fabric. “Your turn, Tarrlok.”_

_He raised his head, fixed his wavering gaze on his brother. Noatak. His pale blue eyes were impassive, his face an expressionless mask._

_“No,” he whispered, bile rising in his throat at the thought. “I— I can’t.”_

Tarrlok collapsed on the floor.

_Noatak._

Dimly, as if underwater, he saw: Amon lift him bodily and point at the door to the stairs. Amon drop him in the back of a truck. The Avatar explode out of the door, the air smoking and snow turning to steam around her. The Avatar’s eyes glowing, like stars, like the sun. He saw Amon turn. He saw the Avatar freeze, and turn, and run.

Amon turned back to him. The four Equalists staggered out of the shack.

“What do you want us to do?” one asked. Static was filling his ears, threatening to overwhelm him.

“Leave her be,” Amon said. “We need to return to Republic City…”

And everything vanished into darkness.

* * *

He awoke in a small study. He was slumped on a futon. A messy, leaflet-covered desk sat below a window. A small oil lamp burned on the desk, and an iron brazier radiated heat from the corner. The wood-paneled walls were covered in Equalist propaganda. The window shade was half-drawn, but he could see the deep blue of twilight coloring the western mountains. He could smell the distinct odor of petrol, water-weed, and rotting fish that hung over the southern harbor, mixed with the sharp tang of coal fire. So: he was in an Equalist building, in the Docklands, probably close to the Bay.

A pair of lightweight steel manacles clinked as he moved. They were attached to a thin chain that was bolted to the wall.

His waterbending was gone.

He closed his eyes and drifted to sleep.

* * *

He awoke to the sound of a pen scratching. He blinked several times to bring the world into focus.

Amon was sitting at the desk.

Stifling a yelp, Tarrlok scrambled backwards and hit the wall.

Amon finished what he was writing, and turned. “You’re awake,” he said. His voice was deeper, much deeper, than the boy-Noatak he had known, the boy whose voice had just begun to crack, who blushed deep red when Anyu, the tanner’s daughter from three houses over, smiled at him, who made a point to catch soft-shell crab-shrimp because he knew they were Tarrlok’s favorite.

They looked at each other for a few minutes. Amon was wearing his mask, but Tarrlok could still see his eyes. The pale blue eyes of his brother.

“Noatak,” Tarrlok said quietly. “I thought you died in that storm.”

Amon blinked. And then he laughed. “Noatak,” he said, his voice rich with amusement, and something else. “Noatak did die in that storm, Tarrlok. But I survived.” Tarrlok had no response. Amon shook his head and turned back to his work.

“Why are you keeping me here?” Tarrlok asked eventually.

Amon sighed and turned around. “You, Councilman Tarrlok, are dangerous. You’re a symbol of the bender corruption that plagues this city. I’ve already taken your bending—” _Obviously_ , Tarrlok thought— “but if I were to simply leave you in one of our prisons there’s no telling the havoc you would raise.”

“So I get the fancy treatment? Real bed, hot meals, my own room?”

Amon shrugged. “I need you somewhere I can keep an eye on you. That happens to be my study. For now.”

Tarrlok was quiet for a minute, thinking. “You are my brother,” he said at last. “And you’re using bloodbending to take others’ bending away.”

“Both are true,” Amon said, tilting his head.

“Why?”

“I mean what I say, Tarrlok,” he said. “Bending is a scourge on society. It needs to be eradicated.”

“By a waterbender.”

“If needs must.” Amon sighed. “I know that Yakone hurt you, hurt both of us. Can’t you see that he was only able to do so because of his bending?”

“The Avatar took his bending,” Tarrlok countered irritably.

“But he was a bender once, and he passed on the corruption to us. Had we been free of its stain, we would have lived a happy life.”

“And now you’re working with the Avatar?” Tarrlok said, eyeing the chart labeled _Avatar’s Schedule_ pinned above the desk.

Amon shrugged again. “She is amenable to the cause. Perhaps she thinks that she will be spared because of her cooperation. In any case, I need allies and the Avatar has been cooperative in helping me deal with the police and the triads. And others. When the world is equal, as it must be, I will take her bending as well.”

“And it doesn’t strike you as odd that you’re a bender, working with the Avatar, to bring down bending.”

Amon sighed. “I did hope you would understand,” he said, and turned back to his work.

* * *

“So if I’m dangerous,” Tarrlok said one day, “why am I still alive? Put my head on a spike and have done with it.”

Amon hummed a prevarication, not looking up from his work.

“Why bother keeping me alive? I’m not any good to you. I’m never joining your lunatics’ club.”

“You’re a symbol, Tarrlok,” Amon said. “Symbols have power. And the longer you’re gone, the longer it looks like you’ve abandoned the city, the worse it is for you. For benders.” He spat the last word like a curse, and Tarrlok winced.

“So, what, I’m just going to be here forever?”

Amon hummed again. “Not forever,” he said finally. “When the city is equal, perhaps, I will let you go.”

* * *

Time passed. Amon would be there when Tarrlok woke up. He would “work” (no specifics were ever given), or he would read, or answer correspondence. He did all of this in silence, leaving Tarrlok to his thoughts.

Mostly, Tarrlok thought about his past. How his father had died so soon after Noatak’s disappearance. How his mother had grown distant and sad when Yakone died, forgetting to eat for days on end. How the other children of the village had stared and whispered— _that’s the kid whose brother died in the snow,_ they would say. _Some waterbender, huh?_ Or, _I hear his dad killed himself out of disappointment,_ or, _That’s the weird kid whose whole family is nuts. Just goes to show— don’t marry outside the Tribe, huh?_

When he woke up, there would be bread and cheese or congee or dried fruit, and at night a guard brought him dinner. Some kind of meat, usually, and bread and water, and maybe soup. Wine, too, if they were feeling charitable.

Tarrlok watched the sun rise and set, wondering what was happening outside. Were they searching for him? Had he been replaced on the Council? Had Tenzin taken over his Chancellorship? (Honestly, he hoped that Tenzin had; as much as they fought, Tenzin cared about the city just as much as he did, and that’s what the city needed at this point. Someone who cared. Spirits knew Amon and the Avatar didn’t.) Was the task force still fighting the Equalists? Where did the Avatar stand in all of this?

A guard would come in once a day to change his chamberpot, and sometimes he could get a little information out of them. I heard bombs go off yesterday, was that you? I saw a fleet of battleships in the harbor; what happened to them? What was that droning overhead last night? The guard would usually smirk or roll their eyes, but occasionally he would get a snippet of information. We bombed Parliament. The United Forces arrived, but we took care of them. Hiroshi Sato built new, high-speed aircraft for us.

One day, he woke and Amon was not sitting at his desk. When the guard came in to change his chamberpot, he asked what happened. There was a rally at the Arena, and Amon had gathered the strongest benders of the city, the pro-benders and the teachers and leaders of bending schools, to take their bending. A show of force, to prove that the old hierarchy was well and truly dead. The guard left, leaving him to his thoughts. Most of which centered on: the Avatar won’t like that.

A muted explosion shook the room, rattling the furniture and scattering papers to the floor. _What?_ For the first time in his imprisonment, Tarrlok attempted to stand. His chain was long enough that he could move off of the bed, and even look out the window if he craned his neck. In the distance, he could see smoke rising from the pro-bending arena. A person flew backwards out of a high window, closely followed by a second person, smaller. The Avatar. Both people crashed into the water.

Suddenly, two waterspouts rose from the bay. On top of one, his mask gone, stood Amon. (Noatak.) Amon. Atop the other, her eyes burning like stars, stood the Avatar.

“This won’t end well,” he murmured to himself.

From this distance, all he could see was occasional flashes of fire, and the two waterspouts waving like the tentacles of some enormous sea creature as the two benders dodged each other’s attacks.

The Avatar’s eyes flared brighter for a half-second and with a sound like a tsunami coming on a wave of water wrapped around her and engulfed Amon. When the water cleared, he was a half-step behind in their fight: his strikes were slower, his parries clumsier, his dodging barely moving him out of the way of the Avatar’s strikes.

And then.

With a sound like the earth splitting in two, a narrow spire of ice erupted from the water. It caught Amon in the throat, and he was jerked up and away from the Avatar, falling unnaturally still, like a marionette with its strings cut. His waterspout fell into the waves.

The Avatar stood on her waterspout, level with his brother.

Slowly, the waterspout descended. The Avatar moved herself to dry land. The Avatar State winked out.

Amon hung from the ice, a dark smear of brains visible on the ice above his head.

* * *

Amon was dead, and a bloodbender, and the Equalists were lost. An hour after Amon’s death, an Equalist entered the room. She looked almost surprised to see him.

“You’re still here,” she said, pausing in the doorway. 

“Not by choice, I assure you,” Tarrlok said, raising his manacled hands.

“Right,” she sighed. “Hold tight.”

_Not like I can go anywhere._

She returned a few minutes later and tossed something towards his futon. Tarrlok caught it: a small key. He unlocked his handcuffs and stood. She, meanwhile, was gathering papers and folders from Amon’s desk.

The Equalist tucked the documents she’d gathered in a briefcase and nodded to him, turning to go.

“Wait,” he said. She turned back to him, surprised. “What’s— what’s going on?”

“We’re clearing out,” she said. “Won’t be long before the police get their shit together and start looking for us.”

“What happens to me?”

She shrugged. “You’re not our concern. If any of us had our way you’d’ve been in prison with the others, but Amon insisted…” She shook her head. “You’re free to go, I suppose. You’re as wanted as the rest of us, now.”

Oh, right. Kidnapping the Avatar. Bloodbending the Council. Flagrant abuse of authority. Embezzlement. Corruption.

Fifteen minutes later, the warehouse where he’d been held was burning, smoke streaming from the windows, the acrid smell of burning electronics filling the air. The full moon was rising over Yue Bay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always thought it was weird that in canon Tarrlok just had a metal box sitting around in the basement of his bolt-hole. Was he always planning to take a non-metalbender captive with him if he ran away? Did he buy it before he left the city, while Korra was still conscious in the back of his truck? Ah well, the world may never know.
> 
> Half of Team Avatar makes a cameo here, but they're not terribly important to Tarrlok, who really only cares about Korra. We'll meet the rest of them later.
> 
> As always, let me know what you thought.


	6. Interlude: Jinora Beifong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three months after the death of Amon, Jinora talks to some people.
> 
> Here there be monologues.

Jinora could have made the trip from Air Temple Island to Police HQ in her sleep, she thought, if only she didn’t have to watch out for police airships, and more recently those pesky airplanes, moving almost as fast as she did on her glider. She touched down lightly in the plaza next to Grandma Toph’s statue, and went inside. The security guards, Lo and Huang, nodded to her as she passed. The elevator ride was quiet; they had only recently gotten rid of the operators, and she still wasn’t used to the silence.

Her mom’s office was the last one on the right hallway. She knocked three times on the ajar door, then pushed it open. Her mom was sitting at her desk, as always, one hand propping up her head as she filled out paperwork.

“Hey, mom,” Jinora said. “I brought lunch.” She held up the paper bag.

“Spirits, is it already one?” Lin checked the clock above Jinora’s head. “Well, come in. I’ll just move these.” She shifted the massive stack of papers across her desk, clearing a space for both of them to eat.

Jinora sat, and produced two sandwiches. “Pulled smoked turtleduck in a ginger-soy sauce with chrysanthemum leaves on sesame for you,” she said, passing one foil-wrapped sandwich to her mom, “and a veggie-lovers on potato for me.”

They ate in comfortable silence. This was a ritual Jinora hadn’t observed since she went to University. But after the Equalist attacks, since she’d almost lost her mother, Jinora had a newfound appreciation for family. Her dad wasn’t happy about it, but Tenzin could just deal, as Korra always said.

Her mom finished her sandwich first, balling up the wrapping paper and the crumbs and tossing them into the trash can behind her desk.

“So,” she said. “How’s the Avatar doing these days?”

Jinora huffed a quiet laugh. “Korra’s alright. She’s been working down by the docks for the past few weeks. Trying to convince the workers to unionize. Good luck, I keep telling her. If Tao Shan couldn’t get them to, there’s no one who can. But Kamal— they’re, uh, dating, I guess, although every time I ask him he gets all red and starts sputtering— he always glares at me when I criticize her. He’s like a damn guard armadillo-dog sometimes.”

“Kamal?” Her mom scratched the side of her nose. “Stringy kid, right? Greasy hair, pale, gold eyes?” Jinora nodded. “I remember him. Locked him up four times on bomb threats.”

“Yeah, he’s… interesting,” Jinora said. “He’s really _into_ anarchism. A lot like Korra, actually. But I don’t know how long they’ll last— they fight constantly. About everything. They seem like they love each other, most of the time, at least. But I… don’t know.” She shook her head. “Korra’s just really intense, I guess. But so’s he…”

“Keep that in mind, Jinora,” her mom said, suddenly serious. “About the Avatar being intense. I don’t want you to… do something you wouldn’t otherwise, because of her influence.”

“What? Mom, I’m not— why would I do that? I have common sense. I’m not stupid.”

Lin sighed sadly. “I know. And I trust you. But Avatars… aren’t entirely human. And even if you think you know what you’re doing, they can be persuasive. So just… keep your wits about you, alright? Humor your old mom.”

“Okay, mom. I’ll try not to go blow up a city.” She smiled. Her mother didn’t.

Lin sighed again. “Look, Jinora. I trust your judgement. And I know Korra wanted you to be her airbending teacher. But— she’s the Avatar, and from what I can tell, she’s… very angry. And I remember what Aang was like when he was angry. I just don’t want you to— to forget that she’s the Avatar, or an anarchist. And she’s dangerous. Not… not at first, maybe, not obviously. But anarchists aren’t like us. They don’t have the same goals, the same morals. Just keep that in mind.”

“I— yeah, mom,” Jinora said, suddenly unsure.

She considered her mom’s words. Was Korra really _dangerous_? Would she really— well, she already killed Amon, and that had been _brutal_ , but— but he deserved it. He was Amon, a bloodbender, a monster, a murderer, and he deserved it. But Korra had done it so quickly, so decisively— one flick of the wrist while Amon was stunned, while his waterspout unravelled under him, and he was hanging like a gutted fish, his brains glinting on a spire of ice.

But Mom hadn’t seen Korra the next day, shaky and pale, turning the coin she always carried in her hands. Muttering justifications to herself. And then looking up, her eyes, normally ocean-blue, turning to steel. _I’m never doing that again,_ she’d said. _Not like that. I can’t— not again._

“By the way,” her mother said, jolting Jinora out of her thoughts, “your Aunt Izumi is going to be here next month for a state visit. She said something about checking on the progress of the United Fleet, and making sure that Iroh is alright. There’s going to be a full state dinner. Formal attire and all.”

Jinora grimaced. “I hate those.”

“I know,” her mom said sympathetically. “But you’re her niece. It would look bad if you didn’t make an appearance. And you should give Korra some forewarning. I get the feeling the girl’s never worn high heels in her life, much less attended a formal banquet.”

Jinora felt some instinctual protectiveness well up. Why, she couldn’t say. But— “Mom, Korra’s not some feral child, she’s the Avatar. Just because she’s not as refined as Asami Sato or Ginger Kon doesn’t mean she doesn’t know how to behave in a formal setting.” Her mom raised a skeptical eyebrow. “I mean— okay, she hasn’t been to any formal banquets. That doesn’t mean she’s going to try to— to use a soup bowl for a hat or something. She’s not stupid.”

“All the same,” her mom said, “you should probably help her brush up on her etiquette. The last thing we need is for the Fire Nation to pull funding from the United Forces because of an Avatar-related diplomatic incident.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Jinora sighed, sensing that they wouldn’t come to an agreement quickly.

The clock outside tolled the half-hour, and her mom looked at her watch in surprise. “Oh, Spirits, I almost forgot,” she said. “I have a meeting— I’m sorry, Nora, but I’ve got to go—”

“Yeah, mom, it’s fine,” Jinora said. They said goodbye, and her mother rushed off to her meeting.

Jinora sat in the empty office for a minute, thinking. Korra was dangerous, she’d said. Korra was angry. And she was, practically burning with rage, at the government and the police and the world around her for taking away Naga, so much that Jinora wondered sometimes how she could stand it. But she wasn’t angry all the time— no, every emotion she felt seemed to be brighter, stronger than an ordinary person’s. Or maybe Korra just wore her heart on her sleeve.

She shook herself out of her thoughts and picked up her gliderstaff. Her mom didn’t like her leaving from the windows, but what she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. She stepped out onto the balcony, taking a second to appreciate the view (the statue of Grampa Aang, with the sun hanging over Yue Bay, was really something to behold), and launched herself into the sky.

* * *

She found Korra pacing around an earthbent bagua circle on the cliff overlooking Yue Bay. Her favorite place on the island, she said, because it felt the least like a prison, like the compound she’d grown up in. Jinora closed her glider with a _snick_ and approached her. Korra ended the set, palms flat in front of her, and stepped away.

“I think you mastered that a while back,” Jinora said, nodding at the circle etched in the ground.  
Korra smiled humorlessly. “Helps me clear my head,” she said. “I think…” she sighed. “I had that nightmare again.”

 _What nightmare— Oh._ “Do you… want to… talk about it?”

Korra shrugged. “Don’t know how much good it’ll do me. I’ve already told everyone who’ll listen. Which is you and Kamal.”

“The others would probably listen,” Jinora protested. Tikivik, almost certainly; spirits knew the girl was head over heels for Korra, even if neither of them noticed.

“Well,” Korra said. “I’ve told you, and Kamal, and I feel bad complaining to Ling. She’s had so much shit to deal with, a few nightmares seem trivial. And Tikivik would probably try to turn it into some spirit-y vision thing, which it might be, but I don’t want to think about that right now, so.” She shrugged again.

“You could tell my dad?” Jinora said gently.

Korra snorted. “I’m not telling _the Councillor_ anything,” she said. “He already hates me.”

Jinora bit her lip. “You know, I know the two of you don’t get along, but he is my dad,” she said. “And. I know sometimes he can be kind of overbearing, but… he’s my dad.”

“I know, I know. Sorry,” Korra mumbled. “I just— he wants me to be Aang, I can tell, and I’m not. I’m _not_.”

A thought occurred to her. “Have you talked to any of your past lives?”

“Aang’s still mad at me,” Korra said. “He told me that there were more effective ways to remove threats than violence. Believe me, I know.” She grimaced. “Kyoshi seemed happy. Which is about the last endorsement of my actions I wanted… I don’t know. There’s too many for me to ask every one of them. I tried asking Hajime, but she was just her usual flaky ‘if you don’t feel like you were wrong, then you weren’t’ self. Roku said that I was in a difficult position, and then he started lecturing about Sozin so I stopped listening. Kuruk was no help, as usual. Yangchen was supportive, said I did the right thing. I asked her about the nightmare, and she just told me that killing puts strain on the soul.” She shrugged. “I think I just have to wait it out. It’ll go away eventually, right?”

“That’s, uh. Really not the best way to deal with this sort of thing,” Jinora said. “I could find a therapist, if you want?”

“I don’t need therapy,” Korra said sharply. “I’m not— I don’t need therapy.”

“Alright,” Jinora said, holding up her hands. “Look, it’s just important that you’re centered, and stable. If you’re not, the Avatar state might go haywire…”

“Believe me, I know,” Korra said darkly. “I’ve got that thing locked down tighter than your mom has the prison. The Avatar part of me is fine with what’s going on. It’s the Korra part that’s got issues.”

Jinora bit her lip. That was worrying on so many levels. “Well,” she said, “I still think you should talk to someone. You’ve already told me what’s going on in your head, but maybe saying it again will help? Plus I already know, so you won’t feel… awkward.” Spirits above, she was not qualified for this.

Korra looked skeptical, but said, “I guess, yeah. That would help.”

“Okay, so,” Jinora said, floating into a half-lotus pose on the ground. Korra copied her. “Start from the beginning. Tell me what happened.”

“Well, I bumped into Amon on the street. I didn’t recognize it was him initially, but after we walked to the Jasmine Dragon together, I knew it was him. I recognized his stance, you know, and he had this really _menacing_ aura that just… anyway. I agreed to work with him, to take down the police and help nonbenders.” She grimaced. “In retrospect, I think— what was I _thinking_? Work with a bigoted nutjob, brilliant decision-making, Korra. But… I thought, well, he’s not wrong. Society is messed up. And he’s— he’s _trying_. He’s trying to change things, and change isn’t easy, and if I could just… just…”

“If you worked with him, you could try to guide the movement where you thought it would do the most good?” Jinora suggested gently.

“I guess. I knew— here’s the thing, I knew he was using me. Once word got out that the Avatar was supporting the Equalists, he started printing things about his mandate from the spirits, how the Council and the benders of the city were defying the will of the Avatar. So I knew he was using me, but… but I thought if I knew, he wouldn’t be able to. And that’s so— so _dumb_. Of course he could, and he did and I just— I was in too deep, I think, when he started attacking the government, but he’d rescued me from Tarrlok, basically, although… I think I would’ve gotten out on my own— I just, I couldn’t just— I _owed_ him, because he helped me when he didn’t need to. So even when he started going after middle-class benders, benders who hadn’t done anything, I panicked, but I couldn’t back out because I wasn’t going to look like a coward, and I don’t even— I don’t even support the government, or the spirits-damned rich people, they’re horrible and corrupt and abusive to nonbenders, but there’s benders in bad places too, and the whole city was falling apart and that’s not what I want, that’s— that’s chaos, that’s not—”

“Korra, breathe,” Jinora said. Korra gulped in air, her hands shaking. She closed her eyes and clenched her fists. Jinora put a hand on her shoulder. “So you made a bad decision. Everyone makes bad decisions. You’re still human, you know.”

Korra looked away, scowling. “I know. But most people’s bad decisions don’t lead to the collapse of governments.” She sighed again. “I don’t even— the government collapsing isn’t even the problem. It’s just how fast everything went from that to Amon being a dictator, it was scary, how he just started rounding up benders and taking their bending, dumping them in the streets— they can’t just lose their bending, it’s like cutting off their arms but he didn’t understand that, and everything got— I mean, I don’t want that to happen again. But I can’t just let things be the way they are, this inequality— it’s terrible, and if I’ve got the power to fix it, then don’t I have the responsibility to try? Or is doing the wrong thing worse than doing nothing? Should I just not interfere?”

Jinora shrugged. “I don’t know. But it’s not something that you can fix right now. Even if you decide to, um, change the world, you won’t do a good job now, while you’re… not in the best mental place. You should focus on getting better before you start trying to fix the rest of the world. Put your own house in order and all that.”

“But I’m not sick,” Korra protested. “I’m just— this is all in my head! Spirits, I feel so _stupid_ —”

“Korra, stop it,” Jinora said sharply. “Listen. Even if it is just ‘in your head,’ it’s still something you’re dealing with. What happened to you was messed up. Brains aren’t meant to handle that sort of stuff, kidnapping and blackmail and murder and crazy power-tripping waterbenders. You aren’t weak, you aren’t stupid. You are _human_ , and there is nothing wrong with that.”

“But I’m the Avatar. I’m supposed to be, I dunno, better than that.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Jinora said flatly. “You’re the Avatar, sure, but you’re also Korra. And Korra is human. And humans have limits.”

Korra sighed, and tucked her knees up against her chest. “I just want to not be afraid all the time. I don’t want to duck every time I hear a car backfire, or feel like I need to hide when I see a guy waterbending, or flinch when I see someone reach towards me. I can still see him, in my dreams, coming towards me— he’s dead, but he’s still walking, he says, ‘ _Your friends have fallen, and now you’re all that’s left._ ’ And fucking _Tarrlok_ — I can’t believe he got away, that weasel-rat. He got away with everything.” She dug her hands into the ground next to her, and Jinora felt the ground under them shift. “I’m just— I’m tired of feeling like this. I’m tired of being angry and sad all the time. I just want to wake up not already tired. I just want to be happy again.”

“I know, it sucks,” Jinora said, feeling completely useless. Spirits, she was out of her depth. They lapsed into silence for a few minutes. The crash of waves against the cliff next to them was soothing, in a way. “Hey,” Jinora said finally. “I hate to be the bearer of more bad news, but Aunt Izumi is coming to town next month and we’re both going to need to show up at the city’s banquet in her honor.” Korra twitched. “Is that… going to be a problem?”

Korra laughed mirthlessly. “I think I’ve done enough monologuing for one afternoon, don’t you?”

_Spirits help me. _“If it’s going to be a problem, I should know sooner than later,” Jinora said, bracing herself for a tirade.__

__“I lived in the Fire Nation for three years. Trust me, if I get within sight of the royal family I might strangle all of them with my bare hands.”_ _

__“You know I’m part of the royal family, right?” Which was a weird thought sometimes, but still._ _

__Korra waved a hand. “You don’t count. You’re not part of _it_. The royalty. The inherited power. The extravagant, _disgusting_ wealth. Keeping people down because it’s easier to tell them they’re nothing than to try to help them up. This is… it’s part of why it took me so long to stop supporting the Equalists. Authoritarianism is… terrible. Unconscionable. And I _know_ Amon turned authoritarian— that’s why I—” She swallowed. “That’s why I killed him. He betrayed everything I thought he stood for.”_ _

__She waited for Korra to continue, because that couldn’t possibly be her whole rant. And eventually, Korra said:_ _

__“You know, I knew Amon was a waterbender from the first time I saw him up close. I could see it in the way he carried himself. He said he was a Fire Nation peasant. I spent two years on Kōzu, the little island farthest into the Mo Ce Sea, since Aang melted Crescent Island, and I know Fire Nation ‘peasants.’ They don’t walk or talk like him. Not even the ones that left, went to Riau or came here. They don’t have the same posture. Comes from growing up around coal furnaces, breathing in the smoke day in and day out, and all you’ve got to eat is the monthly ration of non-perishable food aid the government sends, and whatever you can grow in your backyard, and that’s not much. And the water is polluted, because the factories— which they never bothered to dismantle safely, not after everything moved out to the Kingdom— are still leeching into the groundwater._ _

__“So you’re half-poisoned your whole life, and the only jobs you can get are for shit pay doing manual labor, cleaning houses for rich people or sweeping shop floors, or you leave and go west, or go to the Earth Kingdom, or to the Republic, because you can’t stay where you were born. There have to be a thousand towns in the east that don’t have anyone under the age of sixty, because the whole town’s gone to look for work and it’s just the pensioners left. If you can get a job in your town beyond basic cleaning stuff, it’s doing something like loading and unloading crates, and you end up all bent over, twisted up like an olive tree, and nobody from around there can firebend properly because they’ve all got black lung from the coal, even years down the line. And Amon tried to tell the world he was one of them.” She shook her head._ _

__“When I lived on Kōzu, I spent half a year eating moldy potatoes and drinking polluted water, just like everyone except the lord of the island. And when the tax collector came to the island I watched him shake Heiji’s hand. They were both fat, I remember, fatter than anyone I’d seen, even most of the Earth nobles. It was like watching a pair of moo-sows walking on two legs. The tax collector called the place a model of progress for the nation. The next day, we got word that taxes would be increased by five percent and we’d all face ration cuts because, and I quote, ‘we all need to tighten our belts.’ I almost set his house on fire, I swear, but then when I went to the next town over it was the same thing, and the same thing in the town after that. Everywhere I went, it was the same damn thing. Rich, greedy, _entitled_ nobles exploiting the poor, who don’t know any better because that’s the only life they’ve ever known, because they don’t know there’s any other way to live. Because they’re never given a way out.”_ _

__Korra crossed her arms, looked away. “So. I don’t think it would be a good idea for me to go to a formal state dinner. I’m shit at politics, anyway.”_ _

__“That was quite a monologue,” Jinora said. “And to be honest, I get what you mean. The monarchy is outdated. I think it’s ridiculous. But there’s nothing to be done at this point. We’ve got to phase out monarchies to make way for democracies.”_ _

__Korra sighed. “I guess. It’s just… I feel like if we told people that their lives could be better, if we gave them the help and the education they needed, then… maybe it could all happen. Not overnight, but faster. If people just _knew_ …”_ _

__“Maybe. But how would we find out? Is it really worth it, another revolution like Amon’s, just for a ‘maybe’?”_ _

__Korra sighed heavily. “I guess not.”_ _

__They sat in silence for a long time, looking out at the ships moving across the bay, until the sun started to dip towards the horizon._ _

__“I forget how early the sun goes down here,” Korra said softly. “Back in the Caldera, the sun’s up till nine year round.”_ _

__“Must be nice,” Jinora said. “I hate early sunsets. You can’t get anything done during the day.”_ _

__“I don’t know, I kind of like it here. There’s seasons with hot and cold, not just ‘rain’ and ‘less rain,’” Korra said. She circled a hand in the air and condensed a few drops of water into ice, which she let fall from her hand as powdery snow. She smiled sadly. “I’m looking forward to seeing snow again. That’s about the only thing I miss about the South.”_ _

__“You know, you’ve never told me what the South Pole was like.”_ _

__So Korra told her. About the spirit lights, the snow and ice, the sunlight shining on distant glaciers; about the smell of seawater and diesel and seaweed and salted cod that hung over Harbor City, the cry of osprey-gulls, the shouting of dockworkers unloading hauls of tiger-seal pelts and narwhal-carp tusks._ _

__“You sound like you really loved it there,” Jinora said as Korra finished a story._ _

__“I…” Korra sighed. “It was my home. And it’s hard not to have some feelings, some happy memories, of where you came from. Everything just seemed simpler when I was little. Before Naga died, before I was the Avatar. I don’t remember much, honestly— I was only five when I went to the Compound._ _

__“The day I ran away— it was my birthday, my fifteenth birthday— I remember thinking, what would my life be like if I hadn’t started firebending? If I grew up just a waterbender? What would it have been like, having friends my age? Just— going to school, learning waterbending from my dad? I sat in their kitchen, and looked at the table, and it was covered in knife gouges from my mom chopping vegetables on it. And I wondered what those would’ve been like, just quiet family dinners. All the little things I missed.” She looked out at the ocean. “The Councillor doesn’t get it, why I hate the White Lotus so much. Why I refuse to work with them, even though they ‘faithfully served Avatar Aang for many years.’ It’s the small things, the little bits of ordinary life they stole from me. Family dinners and sleepovers and waterbending lessons and going to school.” She scowled. “They took away my whole life, and he doesn’t even have the decency to feel sorry about it. I’m not a person to them. I’m just the Avatar.”_ _

__“I—” don’t know if that’s entirely true, she wanted to say. But that wasn’t the point, Jinora realized. What the White Lotus had done was wrong, whatever angle it was seen from, and at this point it was more important to hear Korra out than to try to correct her. “Yeah,” Jinora said with a sigh. “Well, maybe. It sucks either way.” A bell tolled in the distance, signalling the start of the afternoon meal. Korra didn’t seem to notice._ _

__“Sometimes I think—” Korra cut herself off, frowned, looked at the ground in front of her. She said the next slowly, carefully, as if drawing the words up from somewhere deep inside of her. “Sometimes I wish I could just stop. Stop… living. Well, not… not exactly. I just… I’m so tired. All the time. And I’m sick of it. I just want it to stop. I just want to… sometimes I just want to give up. I mean, if I couldn’t stop Amon, if I couldn’t keep one city safe, how can I possibly help the whole world? I’m just one person, and I failed here… I just— I wonder, what’s the point? I guess that sounds dumb. But I want to help people, and I tried, and I failed. I tried to help, really, and I didn’t— I couldn’t— so… what’s the point? If there’s nothing I can do to change things, if things are just always going to be this way… why try?”_ _

___Spirits, I have no idea_ , Jinora thought. _I’m so, so out of my depth._ “I don’t know,” Jinora said, after thinking for a while. “I… I think you just have to…” She stopped herself. “Well, I don’t think you can really say things are never going to change, because they can. Look at Republic City. They’re restructuring the government, passing legislation to give nonbenders more protections. It’s not perfect, it doesn’t solve everything, but it’s a start. Change doesn’t happen overnight. And… I think the answer, to what’s the point, is that there isn’t one point of life. I think you have to figure it out for yourself, find what makes you happy. That’s what’s important, isn’t it, that we enjoy our lives?”_ _

__“I guess,” Korra said quietly._ _

__“Look, let’s go get some food. Narook’s Noodles has the best seaweed noodles outside the South, I’ve heard. You can tell me how they rate. Eating always makes me feel better when I’m feeling down.”_ _

__“Okay,” Korra said. She bent herself to her feet with a swirl of wind, a move that had taken Jinora a year to get right but that she’d learned in two weeks. They walked to the stables in silence, and Korra seemed uncharacteristically reserved. If nothing else, Jinora thought, their long conversation had helped her get stuff off of her chest._ _

__Jinora wasn’t sure what to do, exactly, where to go, but they would get through this. Ling dealt with this sort of depression, so she would be able to relate; meanwhile, Tikivik, Kamal and herself could provide a friendly, non-judgemental ear for Korra to voice her problems. And Tikivik was from the Water Tribe— the North, true, but maybe she could help Korra feel less alone, more grounded._ _

__They could get through this._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... this took a while. Sorry about that.
> 
> I don't know if I did this right. I don't have depression, so I can't relate to this exactly, but I did my best. Please, let me know if there is anything I can fix to make this better/more accurate. This kind of ran away from me, but Korra did need to talk so I figured I'd let her.
> 
> The main point of divergence from canon, aside from Naga's death, was that Zuko didn't burn Toph's feet in "The Western Air Temple." Consequently they had a closer relationship, which led to a marriage (partly of politics, partly of love) between the two later down the road. Toph and Zuko (both still alive) have five children: Shu (earthbender), Izumi (firebender), Lin and Katsu (twins; earthbender and firebender respectively), and Suyin (earthbender). Lin and Toph have a healthier relationship in this universe, thanks to the more stable home life. Lin and Suyin... not so much. But we'll get there.


	7. Interlude: Ling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having Saturday afternoons off was one of the better parts of Ling's job. Today, she used that afternoon to talk to a certain unhappy waterbender.

As much as Ling hated working at a printing press, she knew that it wasn’t as bad as it could be. She was alone most of the day, which meant she didn’t have to deal with idiots or bigots. She was at a relatively progressive newspaper, so her boss, Taro, was accepting of her (to a point). Her views, though more radical than those published, more or less aligned with the newspaper’s, so she didn’t want to bash her head in most days like Kamal seemed to. And because they printed on Fridays, she had a half-day on Saturday. This compared to the full six-day workweeks that most manual laborers, including the wharfies Korra was stubbornly persisting in unionizing, were saddled with.

This particular Saturday was especially good, because her favorite dumpling stand had just reopened after its “unfortunate fire” in the chaotic days after Amon’s defeat, and because Taro had just given her a raise in thanks for two years of diligent work. She stopped by the stand, purchasing a half-dozen picken, a half-dozen tofu, and a half-dozen turtleduck dumplings, and continued on her merry way home.

She climbed the four flights of stairs to the apartment she shared with Kamal (and sometimes Korra), humming the jazz tune that’d been playing when she left. _Now you say you love me, well, just to prove you do— come on and cry, cry, cry me a river, cry me a river…_

She entered, dropped her key in the dish next to the door, and kicked her shoes into the corner. She dropped her bag of dumplings on the kitchen counter, and froze.

“Oh,” Korra said. She swiped at her eyes, which were red and puffy. “Hey, Ling.”

“Hi Korra,” Ling said, one hand still holding the dumpling bag. “You’re…” crying. “Not at work?”

“Left early,” Korra mumbled. “I’m not _really_ working there, anyway. ‘S not like they can fire me.” She blinked several times and gestured with her chin to the bag. “What’cha got?”

“Um.” Ling let go of the bag. “Dumplings from Uneko’s. It’s a stand near the print shop. Just reopened.”

“Right.” Korra sniffed and swiped at her nose. She stood. “Well I’ll let you eat in peace, I’ll just— just head back to the, uh, the temple.”

“Well— hang on, you want some? I got more than I can eat at once. What’s mine is yours, right?”

Korra gave her a watery smile. “I don’t need— I mean… I— I don’t want to take your food.”

“Food’s made for sharing,” she said. “Come on, they’re great. Authentic Fire Nation style.”

Korra hesitated for a minute, and then sat down again. “Thanks,” she said.

Ling sat at the low kitchen table and opened the three paper clamshell containers and put half of each kind in the top, and then ripped the top halves off of each. She passed them to Korra with a smile, along with the included pair of disposable bamboo chopsticks and small containers of dipping sauce. She retrieved her own chopsticks and at the same time set the kettle on the stove for tea.

“Oh, here, let me—” Korra said. She raised a hand and the kettle whistled loudly.

Ling nodded in thanks. She scooped tea leaves into a cup and turned to look at Korra. “Want some tea? It’s good for what ails you.” Korra shrugged, so she put leaves into a second cup and filled each with water.

Korra stuffed three dumplings in her mouth at once. “Ooh, ‘ese are goog,” she said, her cheeks bulging out like a squirrel-frog. Ling smiled.

“They’re my favorite,” she said. “And they’d taste even better if you stop to chew them.” She ate one of the dumplings.

Korra swallowed. “Sorry. Never ate breakfast.” She ate another dumpling. “You know, I got Kamal to show me around the city, but you’re from a different part, right? I bet you’ve got all different views and favorite places and stuff.” Ling shrugged. “We should go wander around the city tomorrow, just us.”

She felt her cheeks warm. “Um.” She swallowed her dumpling. “I mean, sure. Don’t you and Kamal have… plans or something?”

Korra shrugged. “He wanted to go feed turtleducks, but we did that last Sunday. Just going to the park every day is starting to get boring. And there’s only so many times I can listen to that idiot protester Shen before I want to throw him into the stream, even if it would just be playing into his hands.”

“Then… sure. Let’s do it.” Korra smiled, and any awkwardness Ling felt was worth it just for that.

They ate in silence. Ling almost said something a few times, but Korra seemed to be lost in thought, so she decided not to push. But spirits, Korra could eat like a horse. By the time Ling had finished her third dumpling, Korra had inhaled all of hers and was guiltily eyeing Ling’s remaining dumplings. Ling passed her three more, waving away her objections. When they finished Ling crammed the clamshell boxes into the trash (she’d have to pester Kamal into taking it out later) and turned to Korra, who was staring into her cup as if it contained the secrets of the universe.

“So,” she said. “What’s wrong?” 

“What?” 

Ling sighed. “Look, I don’t want to pry too much. But you’re my friend. Why were you crying earlier?” 

“Oh.” Korra looked down, her cheeks dark. “It’s nothing, really. I just…” She trailed off, her eyes flicking back and forth as if searching for a reasonable excuse. “I was just tired,” she said eventually.

“Uh-huh,” Ling said. She leaned back against the cabinets, her elbows on the counter. “Did I ever tell you that I used to think about killing myself?” 

Korra’s head snapped up. “You what?” 

“When I was first on the streets, right after my parents kicked me out. I was twelve. I was lucky, in a way, that it was summer so I could sleep in the park instead of in an alley. But I didn’t have a job, I couldn’t go to school, and I didn’t have anywhere to go or anything to do with my time. So I would walk down to the Silver Bridge and look at the water, and try to think of _some_ way my life could go that wouldn’t end with me in the water. I never did jump, obviously, but I did that for a good two weeks before I met Kamal.”

“Oh,” Korra said softly. “I… I’m sorry. That’s terrible.”

Ling shrugged. “It’s in the past now. But I just wanted you to know that… if you’re ever feeling alone, or like nobody understands… I’m always happy to listen.”

“Thanks,” Korra said. She sighed heavily. “What do you do? To stop feeling like this? Like… like you’re caught in the dark, and you can’t find the light?”

Ling considered this for a long time. There wasn’t exactly a way to fix it, not that she knew of. “Well. That tea’s supposed to help with depression,” she said, gesturing to the teapot. “That’s why I knew it would help. It’s called Juhani’s Root. They make a bunch of stuff with it, but I like the tea because I’m already drinking tea, so it’s not a hassle to remember. I just mix it in with what I’ve already got and double the strength. But aside from that… talking helps. Talking with friends, people who’ll listen and not judge. And, at least for me, having a routine helps. Doing the same things every day, even if it’s just little things, like putting your shoes in a corner and making tea a certain way, they help. It makes it easier to keep going.”

“Okay,” Korra said. She tucked her knees up against her chest and rested her chin on her knees. “I just… I didn’t think… killing Amon was the right thing to do. I’m sure. But it _hurt_. More than I expected. It felt awful. Like pulling a railroad spike out with my teeth. And I don’t know why… I thought about killing officials, governors and magistrates and all that, a thousand times while I was in the Earth Kingdom, and the only reason I never went through with it was because I didn’t want to run the risk of getting caught and found out as the Avatar. But now that everyone knows, who’s going to try me for murder? Who’s got authority over the Avatar? I mean, historically it’s been the White Lotus— I’ve talked to, it feels like a thousand old Avatars— they all say that the White Lotus used to be secret, and have kind of a contentious relationship with the Avatar, but now Aang’s got them serving me? As if I _want_ their help? And even if they _did_ try to stop me, who’s in charge of _them?_ ”

Ling _hum_ med. “Well, it’s a ‘who watches the watchmen’ type of thing,” she said. “At some point, you just have to trust that the person highest on the totem pole has a good conscience. If they do, you’re like the Fire Nation and you’ve got a very fair ruler like Izumi. If not… you’re the Earth Kingdom.” She looked past Korra, into the living room where a cheap replica scroll of _Changbai Falls_ hung. She sat down next to her, around the corner of the table. She fiddled with her cup, not meeting Korra’s eyes.

“I think you’re trustworthy, if that counts for anything,” Ling continued. “Amon needed to be stopped, and at the time you were best equipped to stop him. Feeling awful about it proves you’re not a sociopath.” She looked up at Korra and smiled. “Trust me. You’re a much better person than you think you are.”

Korra reddened. “Um. Thanks,” she said quietly. There was a pause. And then, suddenly, Korra leaned forward and kissed her.

Ling’s brain briefly stopped.

And then it came back online: Korra tasted like jasmine and honey and soy sauce, her lips softer than she'd imagined. _This must be what flying feels like_ , she thought, and it was dizzying. Like electricity and sunlight, like touching a live wire, and Ling tilted her head to allow Korra better access—

“Wait stop,” she said, pulling back so suddenly that it made her head spin.

Korra blinked several times, looking just as dazed as Ling felt. “I’m sorry,” she said. “That was—”

“We can’t—”

“Kamal—”

“I know.”

Korra sighed heavily, scrubbing a hand through her short hair. Ling was gripped by the sudden urge to tangle her fingers in it, see if it was as soft as it looked. She bit her lip. “Fuck,” Korra mumbled. “‘M sorry.”

“It’s…” fine, she wanted to say, but was it? This brought up all _kinds_ of questions, avenues she hadn’t even bothered to consider, because Korra was _with Kamal_. “Forget it,” she said eventually, sighing as well.

“He’ll probably be home soon,” Korra said, looking at the clock. Nearly five.

“Yeah.”

“Should we… tell him?”

 _I have no idea_ , Ling thought. They— their romantic interests— had never overlapped. None of the girls Kamal brought home had ever looked twice at Ling except to sneer at her, doubtless thinking something along the lines of _little freak, hanging around even though she's got no chance_. She settled for, “Well. Keeping secrets is never a good idea.”

Korra sighed. “I… this probably isn't the best time to say this, and you probably aren't the best person to say this _to_ , but… I’m not sure about… my relationship. With Kamal.”

Wow. _Wow_ , Korra had worse timing than _her_. Which was really saying something.

“He’s just— _we_ just— we work better as friends,” Korra continued. “That's— we just… we fight all the time. And it's exhausting. He’s great, don’t get me wrong, but we shouldn’t fight to stay together if nothing’s ever changing.” She sighed again, tangling a hand in her hair.

“Kamal doesn’t usually go for girls like you, you know,” Ling said quietly.

“Girls like me?”

“His type’s usually… vapid, upper-middle-class. Nonbender, probably. Someone who would want to stick it to their stodgy dad by slumming it with a bad-boy firebender for a bit.”

“And I’m…?”

Ling kept her gaze firmly on her cup. “You’re, ah…” Beautiful. Powerful. Intimidating. “Strong,” she said instead. “Intelligent, capable, resilient. You’re resourceful, and you stick to your beliefs… you’ve got integrity. I think… I think he just doesn’t know how to deal with that. You fight for what you believe in, which he’s not used to.” She shrugged. “If you give him another… month or so, I think he’d get over it.”

“You say that like he’d just tolerate me having opinions.”

Ling shrugged again. “He’s got a type, and you’re… different. But he wouldn’t— he loves you, I can say that for certain. Spirits, you’re all he talks about when you’re not here. So he loves that you’re headstrong and determined and courageous— all his words, not mine. I just don’t know if the way he acts around you is going to change. Old habits die hard, and all that.”

Korra thought about this for a while, long enough that Ling started to worry she’d said something wrong. Finally, she said, “I… I think Kamal and I need to talk about this. Alone.”

“Okay,” Ling said, a mix of apprehension and regret prickling in her stomach. What had she been _thinking_ , kissing Korra? Why on earth did she _do_ that? “Look, about the kiss, I’m—”

“Ling, if you say you’re sorry, I’ll just do it again.”

“Um.” _I’m sorry. I’m sorry._ “Okay. You, uh—”

“You’re amazing, and I think— well. I need to talk to Kamal. When he gets back.” She tugged a hand through her hair. “I’ll figure something out.”

“Ooo-kay,” Ling said, starting to feel like a broken record. “Then I’m just gonna—” She scooped up the cups, put them in the sink, darted into her room, and closed the door behind her.

She tucked herself into a ball in the corner like she did every time things got to be too _much_ , her knees against her chest and her head between her knees, and counted her breaths. Once her heart rate returned to normal, she grabbed the well-worn paperback copy of _Myths of the Ancient Earth Kingdom_ and threw herself into the story of Avatar Daichi and the Star-birds. The text was almost enough to drown out the sound of Korra moving around the apartment. But she froze when the door creaked open, and Korra said, “Hey, Kamal.”

“Hey, Korra,” he said, confusion evident in his voice. “I thought you were coming over for dinner later? I mean— not that I’m not happy to see you, it’s just— what’s up?”

“Listen,” she said. There was a thump-thump that was probably Kamal taking off his boots. “We need to talk. Privately. Um… outside.”

There was a pause, and Kamal said, slowly, “Sure.” The door creaked again, and then closed with a snap.

Ling chanced a look outside: they were gone. She crept over to the window. Korra and Kamal emerged on the front stoop. They stopped, and Kamal sat on the balustrade, kicking his sock feet against the cement. They talked for a while, and Kamal lay back against the balustrade, resignation clear on his face. Korra’s shoulders drooped. He sat up, put a hand on her shoulder. She smiled, and then laughed. He laughed as well, until they were both bent double, clutching at each other’s shoulders. Finally, they both straightened up. Korra wiped tears out of her eyes and hugged him. It took him a moment to return the hug, but he did. They separated, and she gestured with her head to the door, and they climbed the stairs back into the building.

 _Huh. I guess they worked it out_.

They walked in just as Ling started washing the tea cups for the third time. “Oh, hey, Ling,” Kamal said, his voice lighter than she’d heard it in a while. “How’s it going?”

“Uh… good.” Ling put the cups in the drying rack next to the double-cleaned chopsticks. “And… how are… you two?”

“Oh. We broke up,” Korra said easily. Ling fumbled with the cup she was holding but caught it. “We work better as friends. We both decided.”

“Oh. Uh… good.”

“In honor of our renewed friendship, I say we go out to dinner,” Kamal said. “All three of us. My treat. I just got paid, after all.”

“Yeah!” Korra said. “Jinora took me to this noodle place, Narook’s— they were _great_. I’ve been dying to go back.”

“Ling?” Kamal looked at her. “You in?”

“Um…” She looked to Korra, who grinned. “Sure, why not.” She got her coat and boots and key. 

As they walked down the steps Korra slung an arm over each of their shoulders. “You guys are the best,” she said, grinning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one... also got away from me. Sorry about the delay, if there's anyone reading this.
> 
> The lyrics Ling is thinking of at the beginning are borrowed from, as you might guess, "Cry me a River" by Ella Fitzgerald.
> 
> I'm assuming the Avatar universe hasn't developed modern pharmaceuticals yet. Modern antidepressants were first synthesized in 1951 but weren't put into practice as antidepressants until about '53. Before that people used opioids or amphetamines, or herbal remedies like St. John's Wort, which is what "Juhani's Root" is. They do sell tea made from St. John's Wort, but please consult a doctor before ingesting any potentially mood-altering substances, even if they're plants.
> 
> I look forward to any comments you might have, even if they're "Wow, this sucks!"


	8. Spirits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now, for something completely different: Harmonic Convergence.

_“Again and again, when Brahma’s day arrives, all living entities come into being, and with the arrival of Brahma’s night they are helplessly annihilated.”_

* * *

In the winter the wind echoes like star-song from the mouth of his cave, cuts like a knife and digs itself into his carapace. The roots of his tree shift and clatter, and ice falls from the ceiling and pools in the dips in the floor. In the spring the ice melts, filling his home with lamentation, water falling like tears. The wind is bright and green and the cave smells of rot. In the summer the wind sings like a raven-hawk through the roots of his cave, and sunlight leaks through the cracks in the ceiling, pooling where the ice melted away, burning away the rot and the bright green of spring. In the fall the light turns gold, and the wind roars and wails above him and around him as storms rage and die, and the cycle repeats.

Koh does not notice these things, not anymore.

They’ve forgotten him, his face and his voice and his purpose— but his name is still whispered in the shadows. That old lie: be good, little one, or the Face Stealer will find you. He would not leave his home if he could. Not for mortals, who flicker like light-bugs and fall like mayflies.

No. He is _found._ When he needs to be, when he is wanted. No sooner, no later. And they all find him, in the end.

He turns from the stairs, the blue-white wind of winter that wails like a lover’s loss. The floor of the cave is worn with ruts from his endless circling.

 _Sister-host._ The Avatar smells of wind and fire and moonlight. The blue-nose smiles as he turns. “Hello, Avatar. I told you we would meet again.”

The little water-spark is careful. Her face twitches but betrays no emotion. Eyes like the ocean and a voice like the night. Harmonic Convergence, she says, is why she has found him. She seeks the Oldest Ones, Order and Chaos, who burn like fire and ice, who crush like wind and stone, who lurk in the darkness Beyond. They will return, and bring the world down around them.

“I cannot give the answers you seek. But there are others, strong in ways that I am not. The Bear, the Owl, the Fox. The window to all things. Seek and do not return, little spark.”

The cave seems darker in her absence.

* * *

The _Avatar_. Come again to his library, come to steal knowledge and spread chaos and destruction. Thief, oath-breaker, _liar_. Everything in him screams for her death.

“Most noble Wan Shi Tong,” the Avatar begins, bowing formally. “I humbly request your permission to use your library. I was sent here by Koh. I need to find information about…” she hesitates. “Well. Avatar Hajime called them Order and Chaos. Koh called them the Oldest Ones. I was hoping that you would have information.”

He blinks. The Oldest Ones. Almost time for their return. How the years pass when surrounded by books. He cannot turn her out, then. Their return would mean the destruction of his library, his scrolls and books, carvings and paintings, as surely as it would the mortal world she seeks to protect.

Still. The _Avatar_. Traitor, liar, oathbreaker, thief. Come to bring war to his kingdom of peace.

“You bring no books, no scrolls, no information I do not already have,” he says. Impudent mortal. Just as presumptuous as the last Avatar. His feathers still ruffle to think of that water tribe _human_ getting the better of him— but _he_ is not related to this one. “You seek knowledge of the Oldest Ones. What would you give me, for the knowledge you will gain? Everything has a price, Avatar.”

“I'm the Avatar,” she says. “Isn't that enough?” 

He gives her a thorny glare. “Your predecessor broke his word, given as the Avatar. Try again.” 

The Avatar looks lost, and he frowns. And then a thought occurs to him. “Perhaps… you could help me puzzle out a riddle. Given to me long ago by another mortal, as payment for my scrolls.” The Avatar looks worried, and Wan Shi Tong smiles. Pettiness. So _human_ , and yet so enticing. He waves a wing, clearing the air around them to facilitate their thought.

“Here: four men stand in a room. A king, a merchant, a shaman, and a soldier with a sword. The king says to the soldier, ‘Kill the other two, and I will give you lands and titles.’ The merchant says, ‘Kill the other two, and you will have wealth beyond measure.’ The sage says, ‘Kill the other two, and you will have the favor of the spirits for all your days.’ Who lives and who dies?”

The Avatar considers this, and Wan Shi Tong watches her. She has been with the Face Stealer recently. He can smell the rot and death on her, the endless circling, the sickly green-gray of his smile. She knows the answer— he can see it in the set of her shoulders, the tilt of her eyebrows. She is simply looking for the words.

“It… I suppose it depends on the soldier,” she says eventually.

Wan Shi Tong clicks his beak. “But why? All he has is a sword. He cannot command armies, speak with spirits, or trade with far-off lands.”

“But he has a sword. He is the one to decide who lives and who dies.”

“Then where, in this room, does power lie?”

“With—” the Avatar hesitates. “With the soldier, I would suppose.”

“So soldiers are your rulers.” Untrue, by all his library’s knowledge, but sometimes questions are the best teachers. Wan Shi Tong turns fully and approaches her, unblinking. She leans away from him unconsciously. Frightened, as she should be.

“Kings are our rulers, stupid as it is,” she says, eyes almost crossed to maintain eye contact. “Or the local equivalent. Fire Lord, chief, elder council. Lords in smaller areas.”

“Why?”

“Because— because they _are_. Because they always have been. Like I said, it’s stupid.”

“And why have they always been so? Brother-Agni fathered all firebenders, but only one family thinks themselves above the rest. Sister-Jizhu put the earthbenders in the heart of the mountains, but the mortals rule from the impenetrable city.”

The Avatar frowns, scratches the back of her neck. “It goes back a long way— the people who were strong, the families that could impose their will— they were the ones who had power, and now they still do, and whether or not they can _do_ anything anymore no-one questions it because it’s how things have always been.”

“By those rights, the benders should be your leaders.”

“In some places they are, but… well, people are trying to change it. I mean, look at the Equalists. Amon nearly brought down the whole damned government with a few well-placed words to the right people.” The Avatar is silent for another minute, doing her best not to fidget under Wan Shi Tong’s inscrutable gaze. “The answer to your riddle,” she says finally, “ _is_ that who the soldier kills depends on who he is. Because we mortals all give our loyalty to different people. Power isn’t a constant.”

Wan Shi Tong considers this. “Your power is not a constant,” he says slowly. Somehow it had never occurred to him— why should it? That power is not something you hold in your hands and your mind and move through the world with— and he can feel the library shifting to accommodate this new information, books reorganizing and new wings opening. “It is a trick of the light. A ghost, a shadow. It lies where humans believe, and you mortals have such brief lives, such short memories…”

“So your library—” the Avatar begins, but stops abruptly when Wan Shi Tong bends to level his head with her own. She blinks at the sudden proximity.

“I have been puzzling over this for a long time. It was like looking through clouded glass, a warped mirror. I could see, but not clearly. You humans are so strange. Thank you for your knowledge.” He straightens. “That being said, I do not have the information you seek. I deal in mortal secrets, mortal knowledge. Sometimes paths converge, or run parallel, but the Oldest Ones are unknowable, least of all to mortals. So you have two options. Seek my likeness, Ka’eo the Seer, who holds the knowledge of the spirits. Or find your own knowledge, and sit before the Mirror of Souls.”

“The… what?”

He gestures with a wing, twists and pulls just so on the reality of his home, and a map materialises on the floor in front of them. Small lines connect the kingdoms, which glitter like gems set into the floor. He points with a feather to the realm of the Watcher. “The Mirror of Souls, Avatar, is a nexus of the ten thousand worlds, at the center of the First World. Named by one of your previous lives, many Convergences ago. It is the gateway, and the window, to every world that exists.” 

“And it’ll help me defeat the— the Oldest Ones?”

“It will give you the knowledge of every version of you,” Wan Shi Tong says. The Avatar fidgets. Uncomfortable, he thinks, with the idea of other versions of herself. “There is a reason we call your realm the ten thousand worlds, Avatar,” he says. “There are more realities than can be counted, than there are stars in the sky. You are but one version, one _aspect_ , of yourself. As every version of yourself, you would be wise beyond mortal knowledge. However,” he adds, clicking his beak, “such knowledge cannot exist outside of the spirit world. You will return to your mortal state, one mind in one body, when the Convergence is finished. Unfortunate for you.”

“And what you’re saying is, one version of me will know what to do?”

Wah Shi Tong ruffles his feathers, the avian equivalent of a frown. “Mortals do not take kindly to the concept of the infinite. Everything that is possible _will happen_. You will know _everything_." She crosses her arms and looks down: discomforted by the thought of such knowledge. "I should mention, Avatar, that your predecessors have chosen that path rarely. Most have sought Ka’eo, whose knowledge is _kinder_ than the all-knowledge given by the Mirror.” Resolve settles in the set of the Avatar’s shoulders, the line of her mouth. Stubborn mortal. He should’ve guessed. “You will seek the Mirror, then?” One eyebrow raises. “Oh Avatar, you should really stop underestimating me,” he says. “I am an _all-knowing_ spirit, at least when it comes to humans.”

“I guess,” she says. “Thank you, Wan Shi Tong.” She bows.

He inclines his head, just so. “For your knowledge, you— and only you, Korra of the Southern Water Tribe, no other Avatars before or after— will be welcome here.”

She thanks him again and exits the library. Wan Shi Tong shakes his head and calls for a knowledge-seeker.

“Alert Rendel. The Avatar will be on her way soon.” _I hope you know what you’re doing, Face Stealer_ , he thinks. _If any harm comes to my home, you will lose more than a face._

* * *

Rendel the Watcher has stood guard over the Mirror of Souls for more years than can be counted, for more years than there are many-worlds, for longer than even He Who Knows Ten Thousand Things could say.

The Face Stealer would have her believe that there is an _order_ to these things, that there is a way that the worlds will be. She knows better. The present, and all life, is chaos, pure and simple. There is nothing to give structure to it. Anything can happen at any time, and if the Face Stealer claims to know the future, that is because he is old enough to think himself all-knowing. And who is Rendel to contradict him? Only the Watcher of the Mirror, She Who Sees Ten Thousand Things. Powerful enough to rival Koh himself, if she so desired.

A knowledge-seeker appears in her field of view. The little fox bows, opens her mouth. Wan Shi Tong’s voice spills forth: “The Avatar will arrive shortly. She will want to see herself in the mirror. Be prepared. Koh’s plan must not fail.” The fox cocks her head and looks at her expectantly.

Rendel shakes her head. “Feh. Koh’s thrice-damned _plan_. Tell your master that I will be ready, and that I will act according to the plan, but that I do not believe for an instant any word that centipede-eel says, and neither should he.” The fox dips her head and disappears in a wink of light. 

The Avatar arrives soon enough, just as predicted, and Rendel makes a show of being welcoming and excited. She’s met the Avatar once or twice; most choose to look for Ka’eo, the lumbering old bear, afraid of what they’ll find if they become _every_ version of themselves. This one, Korra, is braver than most; she winces when she looks in the mirror first, but wastes no time in sitting and falling into an easy routine of meditation.

Rendel can see the worlds coalescing behind the mirror, as slowly other versions of Korra merge. Minute differences first: an extra mole here, a chipped tooth there, a stray freckle or pockmark scar; then the larger differences: missing eyes, arms useless for bending, unable to hear; finally, the truly _other_ Korras: the ones whose animal guides never died, the ones who were kidnapped, the ones whose mother died in childbirth, the ones whose Uncle was killed as a child and grew up a princess of the North. An infinity, all contained within one person.

The Avatar stands. Rendel can see a hairline crack running across the center of the Mirror. She smiles, sharp-toothed and dangerous. “You’d best run, Avatar,” she says. Her reflection fragments into five, ten, twenty, a hundred. “They’re on their way.”

The Avatar whips around, just in time to see the Mirror buckle and shatter, shatter into a thousand pieces that glimmer like stars.

It never gets any easier. But Rendel knows this dance, knows it like breathing. She takes the largest shard of the mirror, long and tapered and deceptively flat-edged like shattered ice, and presses it into the Avatar’s hands. “Go,” she says, more forcefully. “Find Koh. The spirit world needs him free.”

She turns to look at the wound in the world, the emptiness and the gaping darkness, yawning and cavernous and eternal.

Madness spins through the void, Order and Chaos twisting together until it is impossible to tell which is which, and she snarls at the emptiness, the teeth and fire and constricting nauseating smoke and stars and vertigo, and Order and Chaos laugh.

 _HELLO, WATCHER_ , they say. _IT’S BEEN A LONG TIME._

* * *

The wind wails like the ice of winter. Sunlight drips through the gloom, not due until springtime. The blue oni slips into place, frowning.

“Do notreturn, I said, Avatar.”

He pauses. She is _different_.

She is Korra, but she is _more_ than she was before, stronger and louder and brighter, a thousand eyes blinking in time in one face, a thousand mouths smiling— _oh_ , he could tear that smile away from her and devour her whole, and the ten thousand faces would be more satisfying than anything, and yet—

A shard of sunlight, like lightning in the dark cave. Thin and sharp, so sharp, sharp enough to cut the worlds—

The noh mask grins. “A sword to cut all things. Very good, Avatar.”

The shard flashes and searing pain rips open his back.

* * *

At the end, there are no great lights or explosions, no enormous battles between giants. Order and Chaos approach, and Tamashi and Koh and Korra stand at the center of the worlds, where north and south are the same, where the first world touches the many. Order and Chaos are— are impossible, and Korra can feel herself burning, can feel the lives she’s absorbed going mad, mad from the impossible _stillness_ and _motion_ , all at once, vertigo and constriction and fire and deep-down caves. Korra turns away from them, looks to Koh and Tamashi instead.

It is as it always has been, as it will always be: Koh and Tamashi become something _more_ , and Korra watches, waiting. There is a moment, terrible and eternal, where the sunlight hums with rage and pain, where the air tastes like liquid iron and death and the call of the void, where everything crystallizes into a glittering _point_ —

And then it shatters, and Korra feels herself breathe again, and Tamashi and Koh settle in front of her, separate once again. Tamashi bows her head and touches her snout to Korra’s forehead. “Host-Korra,” she says, her voice deep and rich and joyful, “I have missed you.” She dissolves into an inferno around Korra, and her eyes glow like the sun as she grins.

* * *

Koh looks at the Avatar. Little fire-spark with eyes like lightning over the sea. Sister-host, owed a debt.

She bows to him, preparing to leave, and he bows in return. “A moment, Avatar,” he says. “I would teach you a lesson before you depart.”

She prickles in something that might be worry, or might be anger, though she remains expressionless. “A lesson,” she says, carefully neutral.

“Be calm. You are not Kuruk. No. Who are you?”

“Who— I’m Korra,” she says, uncertainty in her voice.

He almost rolls his eyes. He switches to the swordsman. “Who do you host, little spark, if you insist on being pedantic.”

“Tamashi,” she says, wary now, “the spirit of life.”

The swordsman smirks. “Spirit of life, yes, but there is more, you understand. There is Order and Chaos. As above, so below. I am Death, and so I am Order. All things die. There is but one First World. For spirits, our power is in our bodies, in our blood. It is unchanging. And so you are…”

“I’m Chaos?” Korra says, openly confused, her brow furrowed. The void in him itches to steal the gentle slope of her nose, the fire in her eyes, the arch of her eyebrow. He pushes away the hunger.

“You are Life. And between birth and death, between the beginning and the end, anything can happen. Remember that, little spark, when you have gone. Mortals, you are fickle, flighty. There is but one constant in the ten thousand worlds, and that is change. But before you depart—” He presses a claw to her third eye. “For clarity, in the future.” Her eye opens, weak and unused, but there all the same. It will strengthen in time. “Mortals lost the way of things, long long ago. Perhaps you will return them to it.”

She bows to him again, and departs.

The world ripples next to him like a curtain of water. “Hello, Rendel,” he says.

“Are you sure that was wise?” the Fox says softly, watching him with her mirror-eyes. Reflected in them Koh sees the old general slide into place, frowning. “I’ve seen what she will do.”

“Some of her will, Watcher,” Koh says. “But many will not. I know better than you the difference between what-might-be and what-will-be.”

“And that was the right path to set her on?”

“She has no path save her own. She will be who she will be.” The old general is replaced by the young scholar, solemn-faced. “I did what I must.”

“Hmph.”

“All will be well, and all will be well, and all manner of thing will be well. The mortals have said that, in more than one world. Listen to them.”

Rendel shakes her head. “When your plan comes crashing down on your head, Face Stealer, don’t look to me for help. I’ll give you no quarter.”

Koh doesn’t respond, but turns back to his tree-home-throne, no longer his prison. He can change things now, re-carve the steps and smooth the ruts from the floor, patch the leaks in the ceiling and open it to sunlight…

He lets his thoughts drift away from him. Rendel leaves in a swirl of wind, theatrical as ever.

_Be bloody, bold, and resolute, little spark, for your destiny is greater than you know. You and I— together, we’ll change both our worlds._

Inside, behind his endless faces, Koh smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've always thought Koh was vastly underused. As you might have noticed, this universe has a _very_ different cosmology than canon. I can expound on it more if you want, but the basics of it are laid out here. No Raava and Vaatu here, folks, mostly because I don't believe in Chaos is Evil/Order is Good. My one gripe with "Beginnings" somehow turned into this.
> 
> As always, I'm happy to hear any thoughts this inspires.


	9. Interlude: Tikivik

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three days out from Republic City, they find the first new airbenders.

It was good, Tikivik thought, to finally be out of Republic City.

She wasn’t one to question the spirits, not when they had so clearly told her that Republic City was where she must live, but she missed the stars and the clean, sharp air and the singing of insects in the trees. The city streets had hummed with life, but it was empty, mechanical, and the air carried the acid tang of pollution rather than the cold snap of snow-coming.

And, she couldn’t forget, Republic City was empty of spirits. There were no crosswalk-spirits, no bridge-guards or ferry-watchers as there had been in Nunavik. There were no spirit-lights at night to light the way for those who sought knowledge; no spiritual energy swirled around the buildings like the eddies of a stream.

No, Republic City was far too _modern_ for the “antiquated” and “backwards” spirits of fire and ice, wind and stone. Even Air Temple Island, where spiritual energy should have been thick enough to taste, had little more than a whisper of spirit-light around the High Temple. It was almost nauseating at first, like losing a limb or an eye, but she had adapted. _Change_ was her element, after all, and she had believed that the Avatar would have need of her.

The Earth Kingdom was hot and dry and dusty, but it was better than the spiritual wasteland she had been trapped in for the past five years.

“You look happier, you know?” Jinora said one day as Pepper cut through the clouds.

“Mmm,” Tikivik said, half under her breath. Of course, Jinora could hear that. “I’m not a city person.”

“I get that,” Jinora said. She patted Pepper’s head and tied the reins to her right horn, then jumped back into the saddle, settling next to Tikivik with only the faintest of breezes.

“You want me to fly?” Korra said, moving her hat off of her face, where it had been shielding her from the sun.

“Pepper should be good for a bit. I just needed a break for a minute.”

“Okay, well, let me know.” Korra shifted her hat back into place and promptly fell asleep.

“I know what you mean,” Jinora continued. “I mean… well, Ikki was always the spiritual one. Mom wasn’t always encouraging when it came to things she couldn’t see, and Dad… well, he’s got his own problems with spirits. But I used to go up on the top of the temple at sunset and just sit there, because it felt like the place with the fewest walls. Dad never understood.” She looked down at the saddle between them. “Korra was the first person I ever met who agreed, who thought that staying in one place for too long felt like suffocating.”

Tikivik thought about this for a while. “We were both stuck in a place we didn’t like, away from what we needed to thrive,” she said finally. “But… what kept you in the city after you got your tattoos? Surely Tenzin couldn’t _make_ you stay.”

“Well. He _is_ my dad. And I love him, and, well, growing up around him and mom, I kind of got the impression that… serving was my _duty_. It didn’t matter if I liked it or not, I was obligated to be a councilwoman because I’m one of the last airbenders. And even if I didn’t always agree with the law, it was my job to uphold it, because law is the only thing keeping society together.”

Under her hat, Korra snorted derisively.

“So how’d you end up here?”

Jinora shrugged. “How did any of us end up here?”

“Korra,” Tikivik said softly.

She remembered so clearly the day she had met Korra. She had been lurking by the docks, surrounded by other waterbenders, all of them hoping that someone would be looking to hire a waterbender quietly. She was _harbor trash_ , tattooed and darker-skinned and more obviously _Tribe-born_ than the others, so she spent most of her days slouched against a wall, staring out at the harbor, surrounded by people whose accents were almost thicker than their skulls. But then Korra came— and Tikivik would have recognized her anywhere. Her spirit glowed like the sun, lighting her like a beacon in the dreary, empty landscape of Republic City. And she had walked right up to her, held out her hand, and said, “Hi, I’m Korra. I think we were meant to know each other.”

“Yeah,” Jinora said. “She just… understood.” Tikivik nodded.

“I’m surprised your sister was able to make any sort of spiritual connection in that city,” Tikivik said after a pause. Jinora shrugged. “It was like a desert, spiritually,” she continued. “I had headaches when I first arrived. There was just… nothing there.”

Jinora frowned thoughtfully. “Well. I’ve got to get back to flying. Throw something if you need me.”

She nodded, and Jinora jumped forward with a considerably larger breeze— going against the prevailing winds, Tikivik supposed, would do that— and resumed her place on Pepper’s head.

Tikivik settled in for a long, dull flight.

Long and dull, however, was not what she got. Not more than five minutes after Jinora returned to Pepper’s head, a sense of unease crept over her, and she leaned over the saddle it spiked into full-blown distress. “Korra,” she said, still squinting over the side of the saddle. “Do you feel that?”

“Ugh, yeah, it feels like there’s a flutter-hornet’s stuck in my brain, trying to get out.”

“I think there’s another new airbender down there.” She pointed to the ground far below, where a smudge of red-brown and green stood out against the dull brown. “Whoever it is, they’re scared.”

“I’ll take us down,” Jinora said, already angling Pepper into a descent path.

The town was typical of the Southern Earth Kingdom: a few dozen buildings, low-slung adobe houses tiled with red clay, grouped around a small central market with the usual baker, grocer, blacksmith, apothecary, inn, and stable. They landed a few hundred feet away from the farthest building.

“Jinora, Tikivik, with me? Ling and Kamal, stay and watch Pepper. I’ll signal if we need help.”

They nodded, and she, Jinora, and Korra headed into the town.

It didn’t take long to find the airbender— airbender _s_ , as it turned out. Two small children were huddled in an alley, clutching at each other. The boy was crying into the girl’s shirt, and the girl looked up at them suspiciously as they approached.

“What do you want?” she snapped. She had bright hazel eyes and a splash of freckles across her nose. She couldn’t have been more than ten, and the boy huddled next to her, probably her brother, had to be younger than that. They were both dressed in shabby clothing that looked like it hadn’t been changed for several days. The boy’s pants were singed, and the girl’s shirt was covered in mud.

“Hello,” Korra said, approaching slowly, her hands held placatingly out in front of her. “I’m Korra. I’m the Avatar.” The girl’s eyes widened a fraction, and then narrowed in suspicion.

“Prove it,” she said. Korra lit a small fire in her palm, and then beckoned a chunk from the earth next to it, and swirled a small tornado into being with her other hand.

The girl’s arm tightened around her brother’s shoulder, who had stopped crying to look up at them, his wide gray eyes still watering. “What do you want?”

“I just want to help,” Korra said. “Look.” She floated to the ground in front of them, hands resting palm-up on her knees. “I won’t bend around you guys.” She paused. “Like I said, I’m Korra. And that’s Master Jinora, and Master Tikivik.” She gestured with her head to the two of them, standing awkwardly behind her. “What are your names?”

“Kala,” the girl said, still suspicious. “And my brother is Feng.” He sniffed and nodded.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Korra said. She gestured for Tikivik and Jinora to sit next to her, which they did. “Jinora is a master airbender, and Tikivik is a shaman from the Northern Water Tribe.”

“Is that why your face looks weird?” Feng said, openly staring at her tattoos. Out of the corner of her eye, Tikivik saw Jinora wince. Kala swatted her brother’s shoulder and hissed something about being polite.

“Partly,” she said. She’d gotten enough dirty looks and sneering comments that a child’s innocent question didn’t bother her. “These ones here—” she indicated the lines on her chin and forehead— “are to represent my family. My little brother, my parents, and my teacher. Everyone in the tribe has them, to trace ancestry since there aren’t many books to write it all down in. But these—” the stick-figures on her forearms— “are spirit-helpers. They keep me safe from bad spirits, and they keep me healthy even when the sun isn’t there to burn them away, just like these—” the circles at the corners of her mouth.

He looked interested (which was more than she could say for most people who mentioned her tattoos) so she continued: “All of the tribes used to do this, but it’s considered pointless now by everyone but us. We live so close to the North Pole that there’s always spirits around, so we need to be more careful.” She spread her hands on the ground. “These, though, are to tell what _part_ of the tribe I belong to.” She pointed to the four circles between two straight lines on the back of her hand. “This is my father’s family, and this—” a double straight line, with a dashed line above and below— “is my mother’s family, and I got this—” A zig-zag enclosed by a two double lines— “when I first became an apprentice shaman.” There were others as well, but they weren’t exactly in any places she planned to show strangers.

“Wow.” Feng hesitantly reached out to touch one of the marks on her hand. “Did they hurt?”

Tikivik chuckled. “A bit. We don’t have much electricity way up north, so they use a needle and thread. It only stung a little. And I’m a healer, so—”

“You’re a healer?” Kala said, suddenly very focused. “I—” she swallowed. “Feng is hurt. Do you think you could fix it?”

“Well.” She frowned. “That depends on what it is. If it’s a broken bone, I’m afraid waterbending healing can’t do much. But I can heal just about any cut or scrape or infection.”

Feng looked up at Kala, who nodded minutely. He lifted his left pants leg to reveal a deep, badly-infected wound just above his ankle, swollen and leaking greenish pus. A burn, or a cut, gone untreated for at least a week. Only several years of shaman training and a long stay in the slums of Republic City kept Tikivik from grimacing. “Oh. Yes, of course I can fix that.” She paused. “I’m going to reach for the waterskin on my back, alright?” The two children nodded, and she gathered water into her hands. It glowed sky-blue, and she let it settle on the boy’s leg.

He stiffened and Kala looked up at her, murderous, but Tikivik barely noticed. She tugged at chi and focused on knitting muscle and fat and skin back together. By the time she blinked out of her trance she was sweating lightly.

Feng grinned up at her. “Wow, that feels so much better!” His ankle was still red and likely a bit stiff, but the burn— it had been a burn, skin charred almost black under all of the infection— was healed, the skin smooth once again.

“I’m glad,” she said, smiling back at him.

“Thanks,” Kala said sulkily.

“Listen, why don’t we get out of this alley?” Korra said. “It’s a little cramped. We have food back on our flying bison.”

“You have a _flying bison_?” Feng’s eyes were as wide as dinner plates.

“We do,” said Jinora. “Her name is Pepper, and if you want we can go flying after we eat.”

He looked up at his sister, eyes pleading. She sighed, and said, “Alright, let’s go.”

The five stood, and Feng held his hand out to Tikivik. She took it after a moment’s hesitation, and they returned to the others. Kamal and Ling were tuning their small radio when they arrived. “Hey, guys,” Korra called. “We’re having lunch a little early, if that’s alright.”

“Oh, I’m not that hungry,” Ling called without looking. Kamal looked over his shoulder, and then elbowed her. She turned, and blinked _hard_ , and said, “Oh! Uh. Nevermind, I mean, I could eat.” They clambered down from the saddle.

“This is Kamal,” Korra said to the children, “and Ling. They’re our friends.” Feng waved shyly from behind Tikivik’s legs. 

Kala nodded stiffly. “I’m Kala. That’s my little brother Feng.”

“Nice to meet you,” Ling said, smiling. Kamal nodded.

Jinora spun up into the saddle, and returned with their food pack. The children openly gaped at the airbending, although Kala closed her mouth with a snap once she realized.

“That was so cool!” Feng cheered. “Will we be able to do that some day?” Kala jabbed him in the side, and his eyes went wide. “Oops.”

Korra sighed. “Well. We were going to ask you after lunch, but…” She knelt in front of the two. “We think both of you are airbenders. Is that true?”

“Um,” said Feng. “No?” said Kala.

Korra raised one eyebrow. “Well that’s a shame, because we’ve got an egg custard tart that we were going to share with airbenders, when we found them. I guess Jinora and I will have to eat it all by ourselves.”

“Why do you care if we’re airbenders?” Kala snapped.

Korra paused, thinking. “Well,” she said finally. “Let’s eat first, and then we can talk when we’re not all hungry.”

Korra raised a stone table and Kamal lit a small fire in the middle. Ling passed around foil sheets, chopsticks, and potatoes while Jinora entertained the children by slicing vegetables with her airbending. Tikivik showed them how to fill a foil pouch with the potato and whatever vegetables they wanted, plus the few dried spices and oil they had with them. After everyone had eaten, Korra heated a frozen egg custard tart and gave the children the largest slices, which they quickly devoured.

If Tikivik had to guess, she would say that the two weren’t used to living on the streets but hadn’t had a decent meal in at least a week. What, she wondered, happened to them?

“So,” Korra said when everyone was full. “What happened to you two?” Kala scowled and crossed her arms.

“How about this,” Jinora said. “You can ask us a question, and if you’re satisfied with the answer then we get to ask you one. You can always decline to answer.” Kala bit her lip, but nodded. “So… you first.”

“What are you doing all the way out here? Last I heard the Avatar was in Republic City.” Kala asked. She raised her chin in challenge. The effect was, Tikivik thought, probably more endearing than she intended.

“Hmm. The easiest answer is that we’re looking for new airbenders. Untrained airbenders can be dangerous—” Tikivik thought she saw Feng flinch— “and we’re hoping we can at least help people control their new powers, or even better convince them to learn a little about the old monks and maybe re-start the Air Nomads.”

“What else?” Kala challenged. Korra quirked an eyebrow. “You said that was the easiest answer. Why else are you here?”

Korra sighed. “Well. We— I, at least— started this because I wanted to help workers unionize. I guess you don’t know what that means, but—”

“I know what a union is!” Feng said suddenly. “They’re bad! Dad was always—” He stopped suddenly, his eyes watering. Kala grabbed her brother’s hand and glared at Korra.

Korra sighed again. “I don’t think unions are all that bad,” she said, “but that’s not the conversation we should be having now. I wanted to look for new airbenders, and I wanted to help workers unionize, and I got tired of the city. Same with the rest of us. That’s the full truth.” Kala regarded her suspiciously, but nodded.

“So. My question: are you two airbenders?”

“Yeah,” Kala said. “Are you going to turn us in to the police?”

“Um. Well. That would… no, probably not. I mean, unless you— no, that wouldn’t— guys? Can you think of a reason we’d turn them in?”

“If you were making and selling hard drugs,” Ling deadpanned.

“Nah, we’d just ask them to share,” Kamal grinned.

“We’re not much for police,” Ling said. “Lots of bad experiences in our collective youth.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Tikivik saw Jinora sigh. “We have a healthy suspicion for them, anyway,” Tikivik said.

Jinora would probably never have the same sort of experiences they’d had. One of the perks of being an airbender, rather than a street rat, or a hijra, or _harbor trash_. But she was trying to understand, which Tikivik appreciated.

“So the answer’s no,” Korra said. “Which brings me to my question: what happened to you?”

Feng looked at up at his sister, his eyes wide and scared. She squeezed his hand, and said, almost in a monotone, “You said new airbenders are dangerous, and you’re right— Feng caused a fire. He accidentally blew some sparks from a lantern onto dry hay in the barn. The whole barn burned down, we lost a couple of animals, and Mom was terrified. Dad was really mad, but when he went to yell at Feng I knocked him across the room… and through a wall. With airbending. And… I may have knocked down the wall. We were both really scared at that point. Mom was crying, and Dad started screaming at me, telling us both to get out. We slept at a friend’s house, but the next day when we went back he just yelled at us again, telling us we were no-good freaks, so we both just ran. That was last week. We live— uh, lived— two towns over, but we couldn’t stop in the town over because we knew everybody there and our parents might come looking for us.”

There was a pause as the group took in the story. Tikivik resisted the urge to scoop the two up and _squeeze_ them. That also explained the _bad_ burn on the boy’s leg. That he’d managed to walk on it at all, much less for the better part of a week, was a miracle in her mind.

After a while, Feng said, “Can you teach me to cut up veggies like you did?”

Jinora blinked. “Yeah, sure,” she said, almost automatically. “I mean—” she shook her head. “That much control takes a while— years— to get down, I mean— I’ll teach you if you want, but it won’t be easy.”

“How old are you?” Tikivik said, her curiosity getting the better of her.

“I’m nine,” Kala said.

“And I’m six!” Feng said proudly.

“Wow, that’s—” very, very young— “so old!” Tikivik said, smiling at him. “I bet you pay taxes and everything, huh?”

“ _No_ ,” he said, giggling, “that’s for _old_ people!”

Kala poked her brother in the side. “Quiet, let me talk,” she said. She turned her attention to Korra. “You’re the Avatar,” she said. Korra nodded. “What are you going to do with us?”

Korra opened her mouth and then closed it almost immediately. She looked around at the others. “Well,” she said finally, “that depends on what you want.”

“What?”

“It’s not up to me, or any of us, to decide where your life will go,” Korra said. “So we’ll let you and your brother make the final decision. But as it stands, there’s a few options. You’re both airbenders. I can take your bending away, if you want, and you could… probably go home to your parents. Jinora and I could train you to control it, and leave you be after that, maybe take you back to your parents. We could drop you off with Master Tenzin— that’s Jinora’s dad— at Air Temple Island in Republic City, and he would make you guys into Air Monks. Or… you could stay with us.”

“Stay with you?” asked Kala.

“We’ll probably stay here for a few days,” Korra said. “Dig some irrigation canals, if people want, ask around if anybody needs bending given or taken away. So you’ve got time to decide. But if you _do_ want to stick with us, then you’d just live with us, on Pepper. Although we’ll need another few bison, sooner or later. We fly around, mostly helping people out with bending, sometimes helping out towns that need flooding stopped or droughts fixed. That sort of thing.”

“I wanna stay with you!” Feng squeaked, but his sister shushed him.

“Thank you for your hospitality, Avatar Korra,” she said. Jinora and Ling smiled at her excessive formality. “We need time to discuss and… uh, decide.”

“Of course,” Korra said, tilting her head in the girl’s direction. “Do you have a place to stay that’s not an alley?” Kala looked at her brother and then down at her lap. “How about I show you two some awesome Earthbending I learned from Toph Beifong herself? I can make you guys a really cool house.”

“Yeah!” Feng cheered, and Kala nodded. Korra stood beckoned for them to follow her, taking Feng’s outstretched hand after a pause. They walked away from Pepper.

“Spirits, they’re young,” Jinora said with a sigh once they were out of earshot.

“I know,” Tikivik said. “Tui and La, who would do that to a kid—”

“I know some people,” Ling said darkly.

“Oh. Right. Sorry.” She forgot sometimes, because of how— well, _normal_ Ling was most of the time.

“S’alright,” Ling said with a sigh. “Still,” she continued, “it’s not like airbending is evil or anything. Spirits’ sake, Aang was a hero and he’s probably the only airbender they’ve ever heard of!”

“I guess burning down the barn and knocking your dad through a wall will do that,” Jinora said. “Dad knew to keep fire away from the kids. I don’t want to think how many fires are going to be started…”

“How are you guys all so good with kids?” Kamal asked, as Jinora swept the ashes from their lunch fire into a small pile.

“Little siblings” was the universal response.

They cleaned up from lunch, and soon Korra returned, sans children. She sat heavily next to one of Pepper’s enormous legs. “They’re so _young_ ,” she said morosely.

“I know,” Ling said, sitting next to her. “What do you think?”

“They’re not going back to their parents, that’s for sure,” Korra said. “The dad was a drunk. Feng told me— well, he whispered— that his dad used to yell at them all the time, and one time he hit Kala. His mom never did anything to stop it.” She curled her hands into fists, glaring at the ground like it was personally responsible. “There’s no way they’re going back there.”

“Even if they want to?” Tikivik said, sitting cross-legged across from Korra. Ling leaned her head on Korra’s shoulder.

Korra sighed. “I have no idea. I can’t in good conscience send any kids back to a bad environment, but— is it my place to choose?”

“They’re nine and _six_ ,” Ling said. “They don’t know any better. I would’ve stayed with my parents if I had the option, but looking back I know that it was an unhealthy environment, and I’m glad I didn’t.” She laced her fingers together with Korra’s.

“Would you guys be fine with them staying with us?” Korra looked up at the others.

“Yeah,” said Jinora. “It would be like having Ikki and Meelo around again.” Kamal just shrugged.

Ling smiled. “Afraid they might cramp your style?”

Kamal shrugged again. “Ladies love kids. It’ll make me look responsible. Or something. So no, I don’t object.” There was probably something else there, too. An absence left by his brother, maybe.

Korra looked to her. “Oh,” Tikivik said. Right. Group decisions, no matter what. “I’m fine with it, if that’s what they want.”

Korra nodded, and then ran a hand through her hair. “Can— we shouldn’t leave them unsupervised, I don’t think,” she said. “We should… assign watches. Twelve hours each, or something. Just in case they have another airbending mishap.”

“I can watch them until tonight,” Kamal said. “And then we should switch off at sunset. I’m not much of a night person.”

“I can take tonight,” Tikivik said. “I never sleep well when the moon’s this full, anyway.”

Korra nodded. “Cool. Alright, and we’ll… deal with tomorrow when we get there, I guess.”

* * *

Tikivik spent her watch perched on the edge of Pepper’s saddle, pulling water from the humid atmosphere and idly shaping it between her hands. The children didn’t stir. Their house really was impressive‚ but then most things Korra did were. It looked like a smaller version of one of the houses in the town, low-slung and red-tiled with a single square window set next to the door, which was Korra’s traveling cloak pinned over a door-shaped hole. The moon was almost full, and her eyelids were only just starting to droop when the sun broke over the horizon, dazzling and gold. There were worse ways to spend an evening, she supposed, but she also wondered what Korra expected the children to _do_ that would require a watch.

The next few days were quiet. She and Korra plotted local underground water sources and worked with the townspeople to dig new wells and canals for irrigation. Jinora taught the children the basics of airbending, and Ling taught Kala a few self-defense moves. “Just in case,” she said when Jinora frowned at her. Kamal didn’t have much to do, but spent his time joking with the children, entertaining them by making shapes out of his fire.

Korra and Jinora started to get itchy feet after just a few days. As she, Kamal, and Ling broke camp, Korra called the children away from their morning meditation with Jinora. “So, what do you think you’re going to do?”

Kala looked to Feng, and then said, “We want to come with you. If— if you don’t mind. If it’s okay.” She looked down at her shoes. “We don’t want to be a bother.”

Korra grinned. “Not at all! We’re happy to have you!”

“I was dreading saying goodbye,” Jinora said, resting her elbow on the top of Korra’s head, making Korra scowl. The children giggled. While Jinora helped them with their bags, Tikivik pulled Korra aside.

“Can we— I mean, do you think we can actually look after them?” she said softly, glancing at the children, who were watching with wide eyes as Jinora lifted the tents into the saddle with a small tornado.

Korra sighed. “We _can’t_ send them home, Ki.” _Wow, she’s pulling out the nicknames_. _She must be serious_. Korra continued, “Feng hated it and the only reason he and Kala didn’t run away sooner was because they thought they had nowhere else to go. I’m going to tell them what Tenzin’s doing and what he’s like, and if they still want to stay, then I guess we’ll let them. And, hey— it’ll be like having siblings. I always wanted a little sister.”

Korra’s optimism wasn’t exactly abounding, but it was catching even in a limited form. Tikivik sighed as well, envisioning many long hours being kept awake by the children’s nightmares. “I guess.”

“Great!” Korra turned to the children, who were watching her with part interested, part fearful expressions. “Let’s get going!” She grabbed Tikivik’s hand and jumped, pulling her with a lurch into Pepper’s saddle. Tikivik settled into her usual spot near the left side handle, where the flight was the smoothest. At Pepper’s side, she could see Jinora kneeling in front of the children and showing them how to spiral the air under them to carry them up. Feng immediately sat next to Tikivik, resting his head on her arm.

Once they were all settled, Jinora took her place on Pepper’s head. “Hang on,” she said, and looked back at the children. Feng grabbed her hand and squeezed. Jinora grinned. “Yip-yip.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay; Tikivik was surprisingly difficult to write.
> 
> Side note, Canadian Inuit tribes had a vibrant and fascinating tattooing tradition, which died out about a hundred years ago when contact with white settlers became commonplace. Happily, though, it's made a bit of a comeback in recent years. I got most of my information from [here](http://www.vanishingtattoo.com/arctic_tattoos.htm). My Watsonian explanation for the lack of tattoos in the Water Tribe is that they just don't need them. Tikivik, however, came from a _lot_ farther north than the main Water Tribe settlement we see. More spirits means more caution.
> 
> If there's anything you think could be improved, please let me know. I'm always happy to hear from readers.


	10. Earth Queen Hou-Ting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing seemed to be going right that day. The kitchens had been _out_ of her favorite pastry puff, her topiary garden _still_ wasn't complete, and the predicted late afternoon sun, which she had intended to enjoy in her sunroom, had been marred by partial clouds. By far the worst development, though, was the appearance of a flying bison in the Agrarian Zone.

“The Avatar’s bison— or the Avatar’s companion’s bison, I suppose— has been spotted in the Agrarian Zone, your majesty,” Gun said.

Hou-Ting considered this. _I wonder what bison meat tastes like_ , she thought idly. _Probably too stringy for my taste. But babies, who don’t have the same muscles… The Avatar is probably here to look for airbenders. As if I wouldn’t be aware of my own subjects’ new abilities._ “Keep track of their movements,” she said. “When they enter the city, have the Dai Li follow them. If they start to look for airbenders, have them brought to me. Peaceably, if you can, but I want them in my throne room one way or another. I _will_ speak with the Avatar.”

“Very good, your majesty,” Gun said.

“Do I have anything else to see to?” she asked, inspecting one lacquered nail.

“No, your majesty,” Gun said.

“Excellent.” She stood. “I believe I’ll take a walk through the southern gardens now. Have a servant fetch me when dinner is prepared.”

“Of course, your majesty.”

The southern gardens were lovely in the afternoon— or they _would_ be, if only the _idiot_ head gardener would discipline his workers properly and have the topiaries properly maintained. As it was, there were gardeners everywhere. One even nodded to her and bid her a good afternoon. She shook her head. She would need to have Gun speak to the groundskeeper.

Dinner was disappointing. The chef had evidently tried to be creative. Grilled, marinated scallop-shrimp with sesame and ginger, and a seared chicken-duck salad, with egg custard tarts for dessert. The tarts weren’t bad, but he, and the rest of the kitchen staff, _knew_ that she hated aquatic food. She made a mental note to have Gun replace the man at the end of his pay cycle. She retired to the library after her meal, intending to finish the book she’d been reading for the past three days.

_Meiying’s heart thundered in her chest as she stood as straight and tall as she possibly could. Nootau still towered over her, his well-muscled arms crossed over his broad chest. “If you were a real man,” she said, her voice not wavering despite the fear coursing through her, “you would treat me with the respect I deserve! I am a princess of the Earth Kingdom!”_

_Nootau smirked down at her, his dark green eyes flashing. “Perhaps in your city you are royalty, Umi,” he said. She bristled at the name she’d been given. “But here, you are my property, and you would do well to remember that.”_

_She slapped him. Or meant to, because he caught her arm roughly before she finished the motion. “Perhaps you need a more…_ thorough _reminder,” he said, and threw her roughly onto the cot that he called his bed._

Gun cleared his throat. The Queen looked up, scowling. “Yes, Gun? What is it? What’s so important that it couldn’t wait until morning?”

“Ah— my apologies, your majesty,” he said, bowing until his back was parallel to the floor. She let him stay in that position. “The Avatar’s bison— the Avatar’s companion’s bison, rather— it was seen in the Lower Ring, and the Dai Li have informed us that the Avatar and her friends are currently in a known anarchist gathering place.”

It took a moment for the last of Gun’s words to sink in. _Anarchist_. “Why in the name of Oma and Shu is such a place still standing? The instant you learned that there were _anarchists_ within my walls, you should have had them arrested and executed for high treason!”

“Well, your majesty,” Gun said haltingly, still bowing, “the, well, the anarchists have broken no laws— they do not actively demonstrate against you, your majesty, and are aside from their political leanings law-abiding, peaceful citizens—”

“They are _anarchists_!” She said. “They wish nothing less than the destruction of my office!” She mentally sighed. If you want something done properly, she supposed, you had to do it yourself. “Effective immediately, if a person is suspected of anarchist leanings, I want the Dai Li to arrest them and _question_ them until they admit their treason, and then I want them _executed_. In _public_.” She thought for a moment. “If they have only _interacted_ with anarchists, and not reported it, they will be arrested. One— no, two years of hard labor. Have a law drafted and ready for my seal and signature tomorrow morning, but I want this to be carried out _now_. Inform the Dai Li so they can begin to correct this oversight tonight.”

“Very good, your majesty,” Gun said. “But, your majesty, the Avatar? How would you like the Dai Li to proceed?”

She rubbed her temples. The incompetence she had to put up with. “I can’t very well arrest the Avatar or her friends,” she said. “Thanks to my witless father none of them are Earth Kingdom citizens. Raiko would throw a fit if the Dai Li started seizing Republic citizens in the night.” She shook her head. “Have them monitored. The instant they appear to be on the trail of airbenders, have them brought to me.”

“I beg your pardon, your majesty,” Gun said, raising his head slightly, “but there are three who are Earth Kingdom citizens. A firebender, an earthbender, and a non-bender. A fourth is from the Northern Tribe.”

“Well, then, have _them_ arrested!” she snapped. Honestly, how could he be so _slow_. He quickly looked down again. “Have them arrested and put into… mmm, Mǎjiù Prison. No, Yǒngù. For that matter, take the Northern Tribe one, too. I can risk a bit of a squabble with Unalaq. If the Avatar protests, tell her that she can speak with me about it directly.”

“Very good, your majesty.”

“And aside from that, keep an eagle-hawk’s eye on the Avatar. I want to know where she is at every minute of the day.”

“Of course, your majesty.” Gun looked up again. “May I be excused, your majesty?”

“Yes, yes, of course,” she said. He scurried away. She turned back to the novel, but Nootau and Meiying’s passionate romance had entirely lost its shine. She set the book aside, vowing to finish it the next night.

She was awoken the next morning not by her handmaid, Liling, but by Gun. His robes were rumpled and his hat, normally properly affixed to his head, was askew. She thought that a corner of his tunic might have been singed slightly.

“Gun!” she shrieked. “Remove yourself from my chambers at _once!”_

“I beg your pardon, your majesty,” he said, bowing so low that the tassel of his hat touched the floor, “but the Avatar is in your throne room. She says that she will not leave until you speak with her.”

“How is this urgent enough that— that—” grasping for words, she pointed a quivering finger at him. “Let the bitch wait, you imbecile! Now get out! I’ll not see _anyone_ until I’ve finished my morning routine!”

“Of course, your majesty,” Gun said. He hesitated.

“ _Out!”_ Still bowing, Gun nearly ran from the room. Liling entered as he left.

“A thousand pardons, your majesty,” she said, eyes downcast. “I tried to keep him out, to tell him that you were still asleep. He was… quite insistent.”

“It’s alright, Liling,” she sighed. “I know that Gun can be hard to stop once an idea is lodged in his thick head.” Liling smiled faintly. “I suppose I’ll start the day. Draw a bath for me.”

Liling nodded. “Very good, your majesty. Shall I have the kitchens send breakfast for you, or will you eat in the main dining room?”

It was already shaping up to be a truly bizarre day. What was one more change to her routine? “Have them send something. Sweet buns, and congee with dried fruit and honey, and moo-sow bacon. None of that picken garbage.” She paused. “And something for yourself, if you like.”

Liling smiled slightly, the most Hou-Ting ever saw her emote. “Thank you, your majesty. I’ll have the sitting room prepared.”

As she ate, Liling explained the Avatar situation.

“The Avatar has been traveling with four to eight people,” she said, picking at her own congee. “Reports vary. The four confirmed to be traveling with her are Master Tenzin’s daughter, Jinora, who is instructing her in airbending, as well as three low-born city dwellers. Their backgrounds are unimportant, and their significance to the Avatar is not clear. It is possible that the Avatar has romantic ties with one or more of them.” Her lip curled. Hou-Ting raised an eyebrow.

Liling explained. “Reports have her showing open affection for the firebender, but there is speculation about her feelings for the nonbender girl, who she has also been observed to be rather protective of. She’s also been reported to be very fond of the water tribe peasant, though less than the other two.” She shook her head. “But that is irrelevant, I suppose. I beg your pardon, your majesty.”

Hou-Ting waved her hand. “It could be useful, if we need to control her. Continue.”

Liling nodded. “The other four are only present in more recent reports. They are suspected to be criminals recently escaped from prison, judging by their dress and appearance. One, a waterbender, is clearly from the Northern Water Tribe. The other three are Earth Kingdom citizens, or so we suspect.”

“These are the three I had arrested last night?”

“The same,” Liling said. “The nonbender and the earthbender are certainly Earth Kingdom; the firebender may be Fire Nation. The waterbender had to be arrested as well, unfortunately.”

“I can risk a squabble with Unalaq, and I’m sure Izumi will understand,” Hou-Ting said.

“Regardless of who her companions are,” Liling continued, “the Avatar is the most dangerous of her group by far. I’ve spoken to Gun, and he has had a full troop of Dai Li stationed in the rafters, with another ready to enter from the side chambers. The ministry does not believe that she means you harm, but reports say that the Avatar is… volatile around figures of authority. She seems on good terms with Master Tenzin, but her relationship with Lin Beifong is troubled at best.” She shifted another paper to the top of her sheaf. “The Avatar’s purpose in Ba Sing Se is not known, but the ministry suspects that she is here to find airbenders and recruit them into some sort of… revived air nation. There are reports that Master Tenzin is doing so, and it follows that his daughter would do the same. Given the Avatar’s noted political leanings, though, the ministry thinks that there may be other factors in play here, including potentially inciting rebellion against the Crown.”

“Thank you for the information, Liling,” Hou-Ting said. “I think that it’s high time I spoke with her.”

Hou-Ting took her seat on the throne and prepared herself for the day. First an audience with the Avatar, of course, but that would take no more than an hour, at the very most; after that, she would have _words_ with Gun about intruding into her private living space. He was getting quite old, come to think of it; he had been old when her father passed and she took the throne. Perhaps it was time to begin a search for a new Grand Secretariat. Someone more competent, more understanding of the boundaries that should exist between a Queen and her servants. She shook her head. It figured that her father, spineless fool that he was, would leave her with such an incompetent dolt as Gun.

After that, perhaps a visit to the acupuncturist, or a massage. This whole ordeal was immensely stressful.

She tapped a jeweled nail on the arm of her throne. “Show them in, Gun,” she called. Across the room, he bowed and scurried away. He returned a minute later, six people trailing after him.

When they reached the throne, he bowed low, and said, “Your majesty, may I present the Avatar Korra, as well as her… ahem, associates: the Lady Jinora Beifong, and Kamal of Republic City.”

Her gaze swept over the peasant quickly. Just as slovenly as she’d expected, and without even the manners to bow properly. Izumi’s niece Jinora was unsurprising, properly and politely dressed. She didn’t bow either, but inclined her head. Hou-Ting supposed that, as the daughter of an elder Air Nomad and a technical princess of the Fire Nation, that was… acceptable. Irksome, but acceptable. Her hair was long but cut away from her forehead, her tattoos clearly visible.

The Avatar, though, she would have known even without a description. Everything about her radiated power, from the set of her shoulders to the grim determination in her eyes. Her skin was darker than she’d been expecting, even for a water-rat. Her hair was brutally short, almost militaristic, sticking up at irregular angles like a boar-q-pine. But her eyes were what caught Hou-Ting’s attention. Almost electric-blue, bright and fierce, like everything else about the girl. She called to mind the jackalion she’d seen in the royal menagerie, coiled with barely-restrained power, surrounded by people that wouldn’t be able to contain her if she were to spring.

But she was the Earth Queen. The Speaker for the Desert Winds, Voice of the Mountains, Queen of the Rivers and the Plains. Ruler of the Earth Kingdom by divine right, chosen by Oma and Shu, her ancestors put into place by the spirits themselves and her power solidified by Avatar Kyoshi. The Dai Li were in the rafters, waiting for any sign of unease. _She_ was in control here. Not the Avatar.

“So,” she said after a measured pause. Her voice rang out, sharp and clear, in the silent throne room. “The esteemed Avatar finally deigns to visit me.”

A muscle tightened in the girl’s jaw. “You’ll forgive me, Your Majesty,” she said, “but I was somewhat preoccupied these past years, what with stabilizing Republic City and securing the world against Order and Chaos. Diplomatic visits have been rather low on my list of priorities.”

“Hmph,” Hou-Ting said. “Then I suppose you want something from me.”

“I had come to investigate rumors of new airbenders appearing in Ba Sing Se, and I had no intention of bothering you,” the girl said, her voice level. “But last night, four of my friends were kidnapped by government agents.” Hou-Ting rolled her eyes. The Dai Li shifted above her, their dark uniforms blending into the shadows near the ceiling, calling to mind a spider-ant swarm. “I’ve come to get them back, one way or another.”

“And you think that threatening me is going to convince me to release your friends?” Hou-Ting said, raising an eyebrow. The boy jabbed her in the side.

The girl closed her eyes and seemed to breathe very deliberately. Temper problems— she should have known, from a water rat. “I apologize, Your Majesty.” She cleared her throat. “That was… inappropriate.”

She should say so! “I understand, Avatar,” Hou-Ting said, forcing herself to smile. “When one’s friends are believed to be in danger, one makes… rash decisions.” The girl inclined her head slightly. “As for your… friends. I was only recently informed of a somewhat glaring oversight in the laws of this city. Until now, men and women have been allowed to run amok believing whatever they wish, even that the Earth Monarchy is fraudulent, that the people need no government. I’m sure you understand, Avatar, that such an oversight needed to be corrected. Anarchism is a threat to my city and to our way of life. The Crown, after all, is the great pillar of our world. Should it fall, society itself would cease to exist, and the world would fall into chaos.” The girl’s jaw clenched, and she saw the salamander boy’s hands curl into fists. She smirked. “Your friends, the ones who were arrested, are known anarchists. As such, the Dai Li and the Ministry of Information saw fit to take them into custody.”

“You can’t do that!” the salamander boy shouted finally, glaring at her. The airbender and the Avatar both shushed him angrily.

She coolly raised one eyebrow. “I am Earth Queen Hou-Ting, _boy_. I was chosen by the spirits Oma and Shu, and my family has ruled the Earth Kingdom since time immemorial. This city and this nation are mine to rule by right. I am perfectly within my rights to pass laws when I see fit. These laws affect my citizens, among them the four arrested.”

“I understand this, Queen Hou-Ting,” the girl said. Her voice quivered oddly. “But all the same— I would appreciate it if you would notify me— _us_ — of changes in the law before we are affected by them.”

How _dare_ the little brat try to order her! She was the Queen, and Avatar or not, no-one talked to her that way! “Don’t fret, Avatar,” Hou-Ting said, as smugly as possible while maintaining civility. “I know of your, ahem, proclivities, but you won’t be detained. All I ask is that you leave in peace. I have no… _quarrel_ with you.”

Nor could she afford one. The girl hadn’t done anything to endear herself to the rest of the world’s leaders, but the Avatar title held weight, and that counted for something. Izumi, weak-hearted fool that she was, still valued her doddering old father’s council, and she could not afford higher Fire Nation tariffs. The water rats would probably resent their daughter and niece being killed, for that matter, and as much as she hated it her palace wouldn’t be the same without the pelts they regularly sent her as tribute.

“As for your friends,” Hou-Ting continued. “I have been informed that there are four recently-escaped prisoners whose descriptions happen to match theirs.” The girl’s eyes widened a fraction. Hou-Ting relished the triumph in every word. “At this moment they are being held in highly secure quarters, pending investigation by the Order of the White Lotus. But I will, of course, do my best to secure their release.”

The girl’s eyes were like chips of ice. “You have my thanks, Queen Hou-Ting,” she said. She made an abortive parody of a bow, barely inclining her head, before turning on her heel and sweeping out of the room, her misfits following in her wake.

When the ornamental doors had closed, Gun entered from a side chamber, and Wei Fong, head of the Ministry of Information, dropped from the ceiling, flanked by six Dai Li.

“The Avatar is dangerous,” Wei Fong said softly.

“They were— were _most_ improper!” Gun squeaked. Doddering old fool.

“Of course they would be,” Hou-Ting said acidly. “A monk and a terrorist and the thrice-damned Avatar— which of their number would be respectable?” She shook her head. “I had planned to relax after this, but in light of this conversation, I believe I should tour Yǒngù Prison. I have a feeling that the Avatar will attempt to free her allies.” Gun, halfway through a bow when she mentioned relaxation, squeaked and straightened up, and then squeaked again and bowed even lower. His ineptitude would have been comical, if only she didn’t need him to relay orders to her servants.

Wei Fong, meanwhile, simply bowed smoothly. “Very good, your majesty.” He cast a sidelong glance at Gun. “Shall I have the Dai Li escort you?”

“Of course,” she said. “The underground transit is still functioning, is it not?”

“It is, your majesty, but—” he glanced at Gun again— “I fear it will not be… presentable for your majesty.”

She waved a hand. “I’m visiting a prison.”

“Very well,” Wei Fong said, bowing once again. “I shall have a contingent of Dai Li ready within fifteen minutes.”

Hou-Ting gestured to dismiss both of them, and then let herself droop against the throne. This was all so much more difficult than it had to be.

Yǒngù Prison was built into the bedrock of old Ba Sing Se, with the very top level nearly a hundred feet underground. Originally meant to hold dangerous political prisoners, it had fallen into disuse during the Hundred Year War, during that traitorous cockroach Long Feng’s time as head of the Dai Li. He had preferred the distant, shadowed catacombs of Lake Laogai, far from the sight of the Earth King. Both were nearly dismantled by her soft-hearted father, but the Ministry of Information persuaded him to keep the prison open. After he passed and she took the throne, prison reorganization became very important. Always soft on crime, her weakling of a father was.

The inspection lasted longer than she thought; by the time she returned to the palace it was nearly dinnertime. She was assured that the cells were secure. Even if the prisoners somehow managed to slip their restraints, the Dai Li would simply crush them under the weight of the entire city.

Dinner that evening was more satisfying than the previous night, at least, and she was able to finish her book afterwards. Meiying’s story ended with an abrupt cliffhanger: captured by a rival band of sandbenders, she was forced to confront the fact that she had fallen in love with Nootau, who she had grown to recognize as an honorable and courageous warrior. The sequel was waiting in the library, but it was late by that point, and she decided that she would wait to start it.

The next morning, she was awoken by Liling, as was normal; she bathed, and then ate breakfast in the formal dining room, attended to by the proper servants. Hopefully, she thought, the previous day’s upset would be just that, an upset, an irregularity in her routine that would not continue into the future.

Her hopes were dashed as she walked through the southeast colonnade, observing the gardens.

Liwei, Gun’s assistant and second in command, was sprinting across the grass, crying, “Your majesty! Your majesty!”

He vaulted over the colonnade wall (oh, for that youthful energy!) and skidded to a stop in front of her. “Your majesty!” he gasped, bowing hurriedly, “the Avatar— she's here! And she wishes to speak with you— she’s with— she has the four criminals you ordered arrested— we need to get you to safety!”

Four Dai Li agents appeared behind him, rising like wraiths from the ground. “Please come with us, your majesty,” one said. “We will escort you to a more secure location.”

Hou-Ting frowned. “What, precisely, is going on?”

The agent who had spoken pushed past Liwei and bowed to her. “Your majesty,” he said, “there are enemies of the state within the palace. We believe you are at risk here. Please allow us to escort you to safety.”

“The Avatar, is it?”

Liwei nodded, eyes wide with terror. The Dai Li agent said, “The Avatar, along with her accomplices and a large number of people, who we have identified as the airbender recruits.”

Hou-Ting closed her eyes for a moment. “Do I understand correctly when you say that not only has the Avatar returned with malicious intentions _and_ has freed her allies from a supposedly impregnable prison, but that she has also discovered my entire new airbender army, _and_ convinced them to join her gang of lunatics?”

A frown twitched at the corner of the agent's mouth. “That is correct, your majesty,” he said.

_I am surrounded_ _by incompetent dolts_ , she thought. A wonder her half-wit father didn’t give up the whole continent to the Avatar and Fire Lord Zuko, with advisers like these.

“I will not be intimidated, by the Avatar or by anyone else,” she said.

The agent frowned outright. “Your majesty, I do not believe that that is wise,” he said. “The Avatar—”

“Agent—”

“Quon, your majesty,” he said immediately.

“Agent Quon. Did I ask for your counsel?”

“No, your majesty,” the agent murmured.

“Then you will not give it.” The agent looked down. “I am the _Earth Queen_ ,” she continued. “I rule this country by the will and authority of the spirits. I will not be intimidated by some jumped-up water rat and her pack of criminals and half-trained rabble. I will speak to the Avatar, and you _will_ escort me to her, or I will have you in a cell before the day's end.”

He bowed. “As you command, your majesty,” he said. “We live but to serve your will.”

_Finally._

The Dai Li flanked her on either side as she marched to her throne room. Gun stood outside, and bowed hurriedly when he saw her. She ignored him.

The room was filled with peasants, mostly lower ring by the look (and smell) of it, crowding around and gawking at the furnishings. Dripping their filth on the floor, no doubt, probably infesting everything with all sorts of plagues. Spirits only knew the last time they had a proper bath, if they ever even had. Most of them would probably just gawp at the tub dumbly, waiting for it to do something.

“All hail: Her Majesty, the Fifty-Third Earth Monarch, Earth Queen Hou-Ting, Queen of the Rivers and the Plains, Speaker for the Desert Winds, Voice of the Mountains, protector of the realm,” Gun said, his voice for once not shaking.

Most of the airbenders knelt as she mounted the dais and took her place on the throne, she observed with some satisfaction. In the center of the crowd, the Avatar stood. If looks could kill, the palace would have melted into rubble long ago. Around her, the hijra and the four criminals she’d seen in the prison filled out her merry band of terrorists.

She shifted into a more comfortable position and steepled her fingers. “How can I help you, Avatar Korra?” she said, raising her chin.

“I think you fucking _know_ , Hou-Ting,” the girl spat.

Hou-Ting smiled frostily, ignoring the obvious disrespect. “Enlighten me.”

“I found all of these people in a prison underneath your palace. Free men and women, _airbenders_ , who all described being abducted and tortured by the Dai Li.”

“Tortured?” Hou-Ting said, genuinely confused. Torture wouldn’t do for her army. It completely _destroyed_ loyalty, even that as strong as the men would feel to their queen.

“I don’t know what else you’d call being attacked day and night for weeks on end by military-trained fighters, not given a real opportunity to defend yourself, denied sleep or food, constantly and loudly told that you are worthless and only a _tool_ for the Earth Queen to use or dispose of at will,” the girl seethed. Hou-Ting could feel the heat radiating from her, even at this distance. The airbenders looked frightened, edging away from her.

_That’s all?_ “I would and _do_ call that military training,” Hou-Ting said.

“And you— you encourage this?” the girl said, horror and disbelief clear in her voice.

“They are members of the Earth Kingdom army,” she said. “The army’s methods were proven effective over a hundred years of war against the Fire Nation. They should be good enough for a few airbender peasants.”

“How _dare_ you!” the girl bellowed. “They are—”

The airbender girl cut her off with a swift gesture. The girl glared at her, but then took a deep breath and nodded. “Your majesty,” the Beifong girl said, “what Avatar Korra meant to say was— was that we— we assumed that you were unaware of their presence. I’m sure you would not deliberately take part in the unlawful imprisonment of your own subjects.”

“You presume to tell me what I would and would not do?” the Queen said, arching an eyebrow. She shifted on her throne. A queen should always remain poised, but it was difficult when she was so close to putting the upstart Avatar chit in her place.

“The airbenders are my subjects, as you said, and as their Queen I am free to do with them as I please. This includes conscripting them into my army. What you found was a state-of-the-art training facility designed by my army’s best military strategists. I have been assured that the tactics being used have been successful in training countless soldiers. Any trouble they encounter will only make them stronger, more capable and more creative.”

“What I found, Hou-Ting,” the girl growled, “was a prison, where the Dai Li were torturing the inmates. What does the Earth Queen need with a private army, anyway? The world is at peace!”

“You may not have noticed, preoccupied as you were with playing politics in the stolen provinces, but the Earth Kingdom is facing a crisis the likes of which we have never seen before,” Hou-Ting said. “Bandits are roaming the countryside with impunity, taking my citizens’ hard-earned money and hoarding it for themselves. These airbenders will be the beginning of a new, more efficient, more mobile army that can deal with threats such as these and enforce my laws across the continent.”

The girl scowled. “No, they won’t.”

Her eyebrows lifted of their own accord. “You dare to tell me how my kingdom will be run?”

“Yes, I _dare!_ This is barbaric!” Fine words, from a water rat barbarian. “I’m not going to let you torture and brainwash these people into becoming your _slaves!_ I’m leaving this spirits-forsaken city, and they’re coming with me.”

Hou-Ting gestured with her left hand. The Dai Li dropped silently, shadow-like, from the ceiling, surrounding the girl and her terrorist friends instantly. More rose from the floor, and even more entered from side rooms, filling their ranks until even the criminals looked concerned. The airbenders crowded together, clutching at each other, and the criminals took up fighting stances.

The girl didn’t react. Her gaze was fixed on Hou-Ting, and had suddenly become very calm.

“These airbenders are Earth Kingdom citizens, and I am their queen,” Hou-Ting said coolly. “Taking them will constitute an act of war. If you disobey me, I will bear down on you with the entire force of my kingdom.”

The girl closed her eyes and breathed out. Very deliberately. The briefest moment of worry flickered across her mind. That… was probably not good.

The Avatar’s eyes snapped open, and they were _burning_. “I hate doing this. But, hey, desperate times,” the Avatar said, a million million voices chorusing in time with the girl. The Dai Li shifted and tensed. The Avatar fixed her blank, burning white gaze directly on Hou-Ting. “I am the Avatar. _I_ opened the portals, _I_ turned back Order and Chaos, _I_ killed Amon. I have lived more lives than you could begin to imagine, Hou-Ting of the Earth Kingdom. So hear me. These airbenders— _all_ airbenders— are free men and women. They belong to no one. Their fates are their own, and you do not control them. If you disagree, if you try to stop me, I will consider it an act of war. If you disobey me, there will be no place for your monarchy in this world. And there will be no place left for you in _any_ world. Now: I am leaving, my friends are leaving, my allies are leaving, and the airbenders are leaving. If you order your Dai Li to stand down, we will do so peacefully.”

How _dare_ — “You dare threaten _me!”_ Hou-Ting said. Her blood was thundering in her ears. The Avatar’s expressionless face didn’t even twitch. “I am the _Earth Queen!_ I am the spirits-appointed ruler of the Earth Kingdom! Oma and Shu _chose me personally!_ My family have ruled since time immemorial and you— you _dare_ ―” The Avatar, eyes still burning blue-white, smirked. The presumptuous _bitch_. “Dai Li! Arrest the Avatar!”

The Avatar swept her hands out expansively and the agents gathered around her stumbled and fell and were swallowed by the earth. More dropped from the ceiling, but the Avatar did not move. The floor cracked and rippled, and they struggled to keep their footing.

“Last chance. Let us go in peace.”

“This is going nowhere,” said one of the criminals, a bald man with a battered face and a deep voice. “Avatar. We need to end this.”

Hou-Ting looked between the Avatar and the man. The Avatar’s placid expression cracked, fear and desperation spider-webbing across it. “I can’t,” the Avatar said. Her eyes flickered and dimmed, became clear blue and uncertain. The floor stilled. The Dai Li clawed their way out of the stone, gasping for air.

“I knew it,” the man said. He swept his arms down and the Dai Li around them flew backwards, hitting the walls. An _airbender_.

“Zaheer, stop,” the Avatar said, her voice hard as iron.

“We need to do this, Avatar. And if you can’t, then I will.”

Emotions flickered across the Avatar’s face too fast for Hou-Ting to follow, and settled on stony determination. “Fine,” she said. She stamped one foot into the ground, flipping the floor along the walls onto its side and pinning the Dai Li to the walls they’d landed against. “Make it quick.”

“Korra—” said the Beifong girl, shocked, but then the man leapt towards her, and whatever was happening in the rest of the room was drowned out by her pulse roaring in her ears. 

He landed on the high back of her throne and she scrambled away, falling to her knees in front of the throne. She quickly remembered herself— _she was in control here!_ — and drew herself up to her full height. “Whatever the Avatar is offering you,” she said firmly, “I’ll double it if you kill her right now.”

He looked down at her, his face impassive. “What is it about this chair that makes people so damned full of themselves?”

She spluttered. “I’ll— I’ll triple it. You’ll be a lord. Lands, titles, servants, riches beyond what you can imagine— whatever you want, it’s yours— just kill the Avatar!”

He smiled thinly. “I’m sorry. But I don’t believe in queens.” His hands sliced _down_ and—

Pain exploded in her chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never really liked Hou-Ting's depiction in the show, including how Korra just let her walk all over her. I pictured the Queen as Azula without the political acumen. Completely secure in her position, but without any power to back it up. She was just lucky to take the throne in a time when no power was necessary. When it was, well... this happens.
> 
> Besides. The Earth Monarch threatening the Avatar doesn't exactly have a [good history](http://piandao.org/screenshots/specials/eftsw/eftsw173.jpg).


	11. Councilman Tenzin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tenzin was awoken by the shrill ringing of his bedside telephone. The telephone that only Lin, the President, and the other council members could contact, the telephone that was _for emergencies only._
> 
> Or: the Fall of Republic City.

Tenzin was awoken by the shrill ringing of his bedside telephone. The telephone that only Lin, the President, and the other council members could contact, the telephone that was for _emergencies only_. He dragged one hand across the bedside table until he found the receiver.

“H’lo?” he mumbled.

“Tenzin! What the _fuck_ are you doing asleep?” He pulled the telephone away from his ear. Well. Lin’s bark never failed to wake him up.

He checked the clock next to the phone. It took a minute for the illuminated hands to make sense. “Lin, it’s three in the morning,” he croaked. He blinked the sleep out of his eyes.

“Well wake the fuck up,” Lin snapped. “We’re getting reports of a catastrophe in the Earth Kingdom and we need all hands on deck.”

“I’ll…” Tenzin scrubbed a hand over his face, looked at Pema’s sleeping form. “I’ll be over as soon as possible.”

“You’d better fucking hurry,” Lin said sourly, and hung up. Pleasant as ever, then.

He sighed and sat up more fully in bed, rubbing his eyes. After a few seconds, he stood and shuffled to the wardrobe. Full airbender attire, or councilor? At least all of his suits looked alike; it would be hard to match colors properly in this darkness otherwise. He settled on a councilor’s uniform and began dressing.

“Tenzin?” Pema, still half asleep by the sound of it, sat up in bed. “What’s going on?”

“I’ve been called for council business,” he said. “Lin said it’s an emergency.”

Pema sighed. “When will you be back?”

“I don’t know.” He began buttoning his tunic. “I don’t know what’s going on. I’ll call you as soon as I know more.”

“No, no, don’t worry yourself,” Pema said sleepily, waving a hand in his direction. “Call me in the morning. Seven. Kids’ll be up by then.” She beckoned him over and kissed him. “Stay safe,” she said.

“I will,” he said with a smile. She nodded, eyes half-shut, and fell back into bed.

He stopped by the door to put his boots on and grab his cloak, and went out to the stables. The bison were asleep, snoring loudly, but he woke Oogi with a gentle ear tug. “Come on,” he said. “We need to go to the parliament building.”

Oogi grumbled sleepily, but shook himself and lumbered out to the courtyard. Tenzin jumped onto the bison’s head and, with a _whoom_ of compressed air, Oogi took off.

“Reports of a catastrophe in the Earth Kingdom.” That could mean anything. And Lin wasn’t one to dodge issues, which meant that more likely than not, she didn’t know what was going on. The large, illuminated clock downtown tolled three as he was flying. Three in the morning in Republic City was about eleven at night in Ba Sing Se, so whatever had happened was probably still happening. If the radio towers were down, they could still rely on telegraph signals, at least.

It was early spring, and the cold air stung his eyes, but it helped to keep him awake so he made no attempts to divert it. Below him, Republic City slept, the sirens and the horns and the incessant chatter of the city forgotten. All was still.

Oogi landed on the roof of the Parliament. Out of habit, he checked the roof and the perimeter for assailants: all clear. It always was, but it only took being nearly electrocuted by Equalists once to teach you a lesson.

The top three floors, clerk offices during the day, were deserted. But when he passed the sixth floor, where Raiko’s offices were located, he was hit by a wave of noise. Through the propped-open door he could see a chaotic clutter of desks, teeming with activity like a beetle-ant’s nest. Radio and telephone operators were shouting to each other, pages were sprinting between desks with armfuls of paper, and as he paused to look, three exhausted-looking pages rushed up the stairs towards him.

“Councilor Tenzin,” one said, freezing on the landing just below him. “Oh, thank Spirits. Lin’s been unbearable.”

He followed her down to the fifth floor, which was mostly taken up by Raiko’s staff offices.

The room she led him to was harshly lit by the new, low-energy bulbs. He squinted as his eyes adjusted. Lin had been pacing the room, a scowl lining her face deeply. She froze when he walked in the door.

“It’s about time you got here, airhead,” Lin snarled. “Guess what _our daughter_ was just party to.”

Oh, Spirits.

The sun slanted gold through the windows, and Tenzin grumbled to himself as he rose to draw the shades.

The Earth Queen was dead. Long live the King. Except that every member of the Royal Family in Ba Sing Se was _also_ dead.

By some miracle of the spirits, Prince Wu had been attending a lecture at Republic City University, and had missed the attack, though he appeared to be the only one. The assassins were… _thorough_.

The Dai Li were silent, but whether they had been simply scattered, or dealt with more permanently, it was impossible to tell.

The Inner Wall, and the walls that separated the Rings, had been _melted_. The Avatar’s work, surely. Nobody else was capable of lava manipulation.

The imperial palace was evidently on fire, as were many homes and estates in the Upper Ring. Looters were running rampant over the upper ring and the palace, probably destroying priceless artifacts thousands of years old…

Overnight, Korra and _his_ _daughter_ had apparently broken into a maximum-security Earth Kingdom prison and freed _all_ of its inhabitants, leaving potentially hundreds (Ba Sing Se had always been wary of publishing its official incarceration numbers) of angry political dissidents free to roam the Kingdom.

And the radio reports, scattered and confused and conflicting as they were, all agreed on one thing: the assassins had fled the city on the back of a _flying bison_.

Sometimes, Tenzin wondered what he’d done to offend the Spirits so much.

The old clock tower outside tolled seven. He put his head in his hands: what was he going to tell Pema and the children? That their big sister, sweet, bookish Jinora, had been involved in the destruction of the oldest monarchy in the world? Had plunged an entire continent into chaos? That Korra, who they all idolized, had slaughtered the Earth Queen in cold blood? 

Groaning quietly, Tenzin rubbed his temples. He’d already drank four cups of tea, and he would need another one soon if his headache was any indication.

A hand slammed down onto the desk in front of him, making him jump and bang his kneecap on the desk.

He looked up to see Lin’s scowling face.

“You’ve been avoiding me all morning, Twinkletoes,” she said. “ _Our_ _daughter_ just helped assassinate a monarch. We need to _talk_.”

“Yes, I suppose we do,” he sighed. “Could it wait until after I call my wife?” Lin’s withering glare was answer enough.

He fixed himself a cup of tea, and as an afterthought got Lin one as well: a splash of cream and no sugar. Some things you never forget. He passed her the cup, and she took it with a slight frown. Or maybe he was seeing things.

They sat in silence for a long minute.

“Are we sure that Jinora helped to… to take down the Earth Queen?” Tenzin said finally.

“Yes,” Lin snapped. “She was positively identified by three surviving prison guards and her bison—”

“Pepper,” Tenzin supplied weakly.

“—is in _every_ report we have.”

“I just— Jinora,” he said desperately. “How could she— _why_ would she—”

“The Avatar,” Lin said. “I told her, I warned her that the Avatar isn’t _normal_ , that they make things seem different just by being around them. She said she’d be careful. But she wasn’t. Clearly.”

“But even Korra— how could _she_ —” And wasn’t that a stupid question, because he’d watched her skewer Amon like a fish, easy as breathing. He'd seen her rip open a hole in reality, push that _whatever-it-was_ out and beyond into empty darkness so complete and deafening that he still saw, heard, felt it in his dreams. At this point the idea that she _couldn't_ do something was more laughable than that she could. He swallowed. “Fine. So what do we do now? We can’t— we can’t arrest our own daughter.”

“She just helped kill the Earth Queen and a majority of the Royal Family, Tenzin,” Lin said grimly. “That’s not the girl I raised. That’s a war criminal.” She shifted in her chair. “And even if she wasn’t— the law is the law.”

“But she’s— she’s _Jinora_. She’s _my_ daughter, if not yours. I’m not going to help you arrest her.”

“You might not have a choice, Tenzin,” Lin said gravely. “She’s coming here, more likely than not. If Korra has finally gone round the bend, if she’s intent on taking out the Earth Monarchy, she’s going to come for the last claimant to the throne. We need to get Wu somewhere safe, and we need to prepare.”

“I don’t think— I still can’t believe our daughter would kill an entire defenseless family. That’s not her… her style. She’s not— even if Korra managed to turn her into an anarchist, she’s not bloodthirsty. Not like that boy, the firebender.”

Lin squeezed her eyes shut and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Believe it or not,” she said, voice strained, “Jinora participated in a revolution. She’s not our daughter anymore. She’s a terrorist. And if she comes here, if I see her… I’ll do what I need to.”

Tenzin closed his eyes. _Great Tengri_ , he thought. _What in your name did I do to deserve this? What law did I break? When did I offend you? Why did my daughter— what made her do this?_

“What’s done is done,” he said softly. “But Jinora might not have… actively participated. Maybe she was just there. We won’t know until we get more information. But right now— you’re right. We need to get Wu somewhere safe. And after that… we need to call the United Forces. Your nephew.”

Lin nodded. “I’ll get a line to the Fire Nation. You call your wife.”

Call his wife. Spirits, what was he going to _say_?

If he could just talk some sense into Jinora… just make her listen to reason for once, instead of the Avatar’s delusional raving, then maybe he could keep her safe. Lin wouldn't hurt her. She couldn't. Not… not her own daughter.

His mind made up, he picked up the phone and dialed his home phone, the one in their private kitchen. He drummed his fingers against the desk as it rang.

Finally, Pema picked up. “Hi honey,” she said. “How are things going?”

“Are the children listening?” he said hesitantly.

“Hi daddy!” came Meelo’s bright voice. “You’re on speaker,” Pema said. And then, from Rohan, “Mommy said you're working on super secret council business!”

“Did Korra kill someone, daddy?” Ikki said, her small voice solemn.

“Ah-- wh-what?” he stammered. How could she have known?

“I had a dream that Korra killed someone. She was in the Avatar State.”

“Did-- Uh. Who did Korra kill, sweetie?”

“Don't know,” Ikki said. “I woke up when they died.”

“Oh, sweetheart, no,” he said. “That was just a nightmare, honey. Korra hasn't killed anyone.” That we can prove. That I would tell you.

“Okay daddy,” Ikki said, sounding unconvinced.

“Now listen,” he said. “Can you three give mommy and me some alone time?”

He waited as they said their goodbyes. After a moment, there was a click, and Pema said, “They're gone, Tenzin. Now tell me, what's going on?”

He hesitated again. “I… we…” He sighed. “The Earth Queen is dead. And the royal family.”

He heard Pema suck in a breath. “What— all of them?”

“The ones in Ba Sing Se,” he said. “Right now it looks like it's just Prince Wu that's left. The whole continent is under a state of emergency, the city is in chaos, the Dai Li aren't responding to emergency transmissions-- it's bad. Really bad.”

Pema didn't respond for a moment. “I'm sorry, honey,” she said. “That's terrible.”

“That's not the worst of it,” he said, heart heavy. “Jinora was a part of it.”

There was a stunned silence for a good minute. Finally, Pema said, her voice shaking, “But… how?”

“I don't know. Korra's influence, according to Lin. I… I'm still not convinced she was even a part of it. But they're coming here next, most likely, so we need to get Wu to a safe location.”

There was a pause. Pema sighed heavily. “Let me guess,” she said. “We're housing him here.”

“It's the safest place I can think of,” he said. “It's isolated from the mainland and there's a number of small places he could hide, if push comes to shove--”

“Barring the fact that it was successfully invaded during that mess with the Equalists,” Pema said, irritation edging her voice, “can't Korra do that… see-with-her-feet thing? She'd be able to find him anywhere on the island. Wouldn't it make more sense for Lin to take him into protective custody, or something like that?”

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his head. He hadn't wanted to say this, but… “Pema, I have to believe— I have to— that even if Jinora really did—” Spirits help him— “did help… kill the Earth Queen, she can't be so far gone as to attack her home. It's the safest place for him right now.”

She sighed as well. “Fine,” she said. “I'll make up one of the empty rooms for him. When will he be here?”

Tenzin checked the office clock. “About an hour,” he said.

“What?”

“Pema, if Korra is coming for him we need to get him to safety as soon as possible.”

“Fine,” she said again, sounding even less pleased than before. “When will you be back?”

“I don't know,” he said. “We're still trying to figure out the extent of the damage, and we're working from sketchy information at best… I'd like to be home for dinner, but I can't promise I will be. I'll call you again when I've got more information?”

“All right,” she said. “Stay safe. And try not to drink too much tea. You remember what Healer Phuong said about caffeine.”

“I will,” he said, smiling for the first time that day. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Pema said.

He hung up the phone. His headache was getting worse, a dull, coiled pain behind his eyes. He massaged his temples, trying to order his thoughts.

Ling slammed a paper cup of tea— matcha from the break room downstairs— on the desk in front of him. “Up an’ at ‘em, Twinkletoes,” she barked. “We’ve got a long day ahead of us.”

And oh, _did_ they.

He returned home fifteen hours later, soaring over the Unity Tower as the enormous bell inside tolled ten. Wu had been safely delivered to the island and had settled in, according to a very flustered Acolyte, by ordering the dining hall staff to prepare him an elephant koi steak and roasted pheasant-veal for his afternoon meal and then claiming Tenzin and Pema’s room for his own by falling asleep in their bed.

He really, really hoped Pema had gotten him sorted by the time he arrived.

Oogi touched down outside the stable and he couldn’t even muster the will to lift himself down from his head; he just slid to the ground. The bison grumbled and Tenzin patted him absently on the nose. “It’ll be alright,” he mumbled. “I’ll get Wu sorted, if Pema hasn’t already. And tomorrow I’ll make sure you get an extra helping of sugar cane.”

Oogi whuffed gently, bumped his nose against Tenzin’s side in farewell, and trundled into the stable where he settled with a thud.

The lights were still on in the entry hall of the main dormitory, at least. Pema was in the main office with Ogodei, his second-in-command. They were talking rapidly in hushed, strained tones, maps spread on the table between them, and scrolls with columns of figures Tenzin was too tired to decipher. She stood when he entered and kissed him in greeting, but she grimaced when they separated. “You look exhausted,” she said.

“I hear the Earth King commandeered our bedroom,” Tenzin said. “Do I need to sleep on the couch?”

Pema smiled ruefully. “No, I talked with the housing coordinator, and together we managed to convince him that Jinora’s old attic room was luxury accommodation. He’s gotten an Acolyte to carry him up and down the stairs, but I think we can talk him out of that, too.”

“So what’s being discussed now?”

Ogodei rose. “Evacuation proceedings, Master Tenzin.” He raised a hand to silence Tenzin’s objection. “With all due respect, we cannot risk letting the new airbenders fall under the Avatar’s spell. If she comes to Republic City, we need to be prepared to move to a more secure location.”

Tenzin felt his eyebrows rise of what felt like their own accord. He was nowhere near rested enough for this conversation. “A more secure location,” he said. “Do you really think that there’s a place on earth the Avatar couldn’t reach if she really wanted to?” Ogodei opened his mouth, paused, and closed it again. “My father broke into the Royal Palace of Ba Sing Se when he was twelve because he thought it necessary. I imagine Korra’s abilities as a fully realised Avatar far exceed my father’s as a child. And I _don’t_ imagine any of the Air Temples have better security than the palace at Ba Sing Se.”

“Even so, Master Tenzin, it would give the new recruits a sense of— of reassurance to know that there is an escape plan in place,” Ogodei pressed.

“What do the new recruits know, exactly? Nothing more than I do, I hope,” Tenzin said sourly. Gossip and fear were the last things they needed.

“Nothing just yet,” Pema said. “Ogodei was going to tell everyone at breakfast tomorrow.”

“And I believe that if they know we have evacuation plans in place, they will be reassured of their safety.”

Tenzin sighed heavily and ran a hand over his face. “Fine, then. Plot an escape route. Run drills. But we cannot let this interfere with the training of the new airbenders. They— _we—_ cannot succumb to fear.”

“That’s what I was saying,” Pema said. “I doubt Korra will come to kidnap the airbenders. It isn’t her style. She doesn’t _force_ people to do things. So really at this point, evacuating would just be a waste of time. The worst I can imagine her doing is her attempting to kill Wu. Which, frankly—”

Tenzin cleared his throat. “Perhaps we should all get some rest? I, for one, am exhausted.”

Pema bit her lip and nodded. “Of course you are, honey.” She inclined her head to Ogodei. “If you will excuse us.”

“It is always an honor, Master Tenzin, Lady Pema,” he said gravely. He gathered the scrolls and tables, and took his leave with a bow.

“Spirits, he would _not stop_ ,” Pema grumbled, leaning against him.

“It seems we both spent the day in less than pleasant company,” Tenzin murmured into her hair.

He felt rather than heard Pema’s soft laugh. “How was Lin?”

“Unbearable, as always. She’s convinced that Korra’s driven Jinora around the bend.”

“Our daughter,” Pema murmured. Even though Jinora wasn’t hers by birth, she had always been as good as in Pema’s eyes, and even now just the thought made Tenzin smile. “I can’t believe she would do such a thing. Do you really think she’ll come here? To kill Wu? To… get to the airbenders?”

“I don’t know,” he said, after too long of a pause. “I just… don’t know.”

He was up the next morning at six sharp, and forewent his morning meditation in favor of matcha, strong and milky, and a virtual sprint across the bay on Oogi to arrive at the Parliament before Lin could work herself into too much of a fury. Later that day, he phoned Pema and the children to tell them that he would be staying at the Parliament for the foreseeable future.

The next week and a half was a frantic blur of activity, waking at the crack of dawn and collapsing into army cots on the floor above. There was simply no precedent for the destruction of the _entire_ royal family of one of the world’s oldest monarchies.

Regular radio operation had been restored by the sixth day, and although it still wasn’t exactly clear what happened, all witnesses agreed that the Avatar had killed the Earth Queen. Had shattered her from the inside out, ripped the breath from her lungs and torn her apart with it. The Palace was in ruins, looted and burned in the continuing riots that followed the collapse of the City Guard and the disappearance of the Dai Li. Airbenders had somehow turned up by the dozen, but he was hard-pressed to arrange for their transportation to the island or to any of the temples. The Walls were gone, and the old divisions between Upper and Lower Ring with them. The Inner Wall was crumbled but not disappeared, the farmers mostly unharmed; the Outer Wall, mercifully, still stood.

Lin concluded that Korra had taken her anti-authoritarianism to new heights, and had seduced Jinora into her bizarre beliefs along the way. And while he still wasn’t sure about his daughter, Korra seemed to be well and truly insane. He would lie awake at night, unable to sleep despite his bone-deep weariness, trying with less and less success to convince himself that Korra wouldn’t attack the Island.

It was about two in the afternoon on the tenth day. He had just gotten hold of Izumi— finally, after hours of waiting and constant re-verification of his identity, after listening to a full report on the nation from Crown Princess Kazue and constant interruptions by her sister, Kaguya. Izumi asked him how bad the fallout was, really. He opened his mouth to respond.

And then the line went dead.

The operators began shouting frantically to each other and the people who were meant to be on the other lines, to no avail.

“Fuck,” Lin said, her voice carrying over the din. Such a way with words.

“Do we still have radio communications?” Tenzin asked the operator next to him, a graying man of perhaps sixty. He flipped a few switches, and the console printed out a ticket. He squinted at it.

“We do, Councilman, but there’s too much interference to make out most of what’s being said.”

“She’s here,” Tenzin said. He stood, nearly knocking over his chair in his haste, and stalked across the room to the fire exit. If Pepper was nearby, he would be able to see her.

As he passed, Lin muttered, “This soon?”

“It’s been over a week,” he said. “Frankly, I’m surprised it took her this long to get here.” He gestured for her to follow him. He heard her growl under her breath, but she followed him up the steps nonetheless.

Three flights up to a locked fire door, easily opened with Lin’s metalbending. The roof was small and Parliament was dwarfed by newer, taller skyscrapers, but for a half-second, he saw a flash of Pepper’s white fur between two of them, and he knew.

“She’s headed for the island,” he said. He felt— disconnected. Like he was floating above his body, connected by only the barest thread.

“Tenzin—”

He swept through the door, down two flights to his office. He heard Lin trailing after him, calling his name, but he didn’t respond. He grabbed the glider staff he’d kept in his office for just this occasion, and went to the window.

“ _Tenzin._ ” The latch fused shut. He turned to face Lin. “You can’t just— just charge off like this.”

“She’s headed for the island,” he said. “For my family. She’s insane, I have to protect them. My _family_ , Lin.”

“She’s the _Avatar_.”

“I know,” he said. She hesitated, and he gave her a hard look. The window latch melted back into place, and he pushed it open.

“Tenzin—”

“Make sure my family is taken care of.” He stepped through the window, and into open air.

The glider snapped open as he fell, and he skimmed low over the ground before sweeping himself back up into the sky. He could still intercept them if he was quick enough— they were just over the bay now, and he was smaller, faster, lighter.

He caught up to them. Jinora sat on the bison’s head, her hair streaming behind her like a banner, and the Avatar was close behind, leaning over the side of the saddle and looking at the Island with an almost hungry expression— but there were two more figures than expected: a pair of children clung near the waterbender.

He hesitated.

The Avatar would be able to save them.

But they were children—

Children the Avatar was using as human shields. She was colder than he had imagined. She was going to attack the island. She would be able to save the children.

His grip on the delicate glider tightened. He had to do this. For his family. For the airbenders. For the future of the world.

He swept himself up over the bison, looped, snapped his glider shut, spun full-body, and jabbed the staff down to hit the animal at the back of its neck with a spear of wind.

The bison groaned, and the children shrieked, and the Avatar looked up, shock and horror and confusion in her eyes.

The bison dropped, blood quickly staining its white fur. Jinora was yelling, and the Avatar turned her attention to the bay below them, moving her arms in wide arcs.

Water roared up towards them, and they hit the wave with what he imagined was less than lethal force. The water was stained red as it crashed against the seawall, but Tenzin turned away before they resurfaced, angling towards the island. Towards his family.

He landed outside the dormitories, and found Pema as quickly as possible. He’d bought them some time by disabling the bison, but they would recover quickly, he knew.

(He’d killed _Pepper_ , he’d killed his little girl’s bison, she would be—)

He found Pema in the main office, examining maps of Republic City’s underground tunnels. “Tenzin?” she gasped. “What are you doing here?”

“We need to evacuate,” he said. His voice sounded cold and distant, even to himself. “They’re— Korra— the Avatar— is here.”

“What?” Pema set down the map and approached him, concern in her features. “Are you sure— I mean, I thought you disagreed with evacuation?”

“I was wrong,” he said. He had gravely misjudged the Avatar, and now the new airbenders would pay for his hubris. “I was wrong, and I’m sorry, but now— now we need to evacuate.”

Pema nodded. “Of course,” she said, though there was a tone in her voice he couldn’t quite place. “You go find Ogodei and prepare the bison. I’ll get the children and the new airbenders.” She kissed him briefly and rushed off to the training grounds, where the airbenders were.

He sighed, taking a moment to steady himself against the doorframe. Spirits. Pepper… he’d killed her… and Jinora, she would…

He pushed his thoughts away. Jinora was lost, he’d learned that much over the past week. Korra was a monster, and her minions were brainwashed at best. The children… if he could get them away, then maybe they could be saved, but—

No. He would do what he had to. For the world, for the airbenders, for his family.

He went to the stables, glad that it was still daytime and the workers and bison were still awake. Working together, they saddled a majority of the herd, just in time for the first evacuees Pema led into the courtyard.

Rohan jumped out of the group and looked up at him with wide, frightened eyes. “Daddy, what’s wrong? Why are we leaving?”

“Because…” Spirits, what to say? “Because Korra is on her way here, and she’s a little angry right now, and I think everyone needs to just… give her some space.”

“But why is Korra angry?” Ikki said, riding up on an air scooter and jumping off next to her brother.

Tenzin glanced over his shoulder, towards the bay. “I’m going to try to find out, sweetie,” he said. “But for now, just listen to your Mom, alright? I need you to look after your brothers.” He gave them an encouraging smile. Ikki nodded solemnly and grabbed Rohan’s hand.

He turned to Ogodei, who was supervising the Acolytes’ evacuation. “If I leave to… check on our visitor, can you handle things on this end?” He flicked his eyes to the shoreline, hoping Ogodei would get the message. Ogodei nodded, and Tenzin clapped him on the shoulder. “Take care, old friend,” he said.

“You do the same, Master Tenzin,” Ogodei said solemnly. “Be safe.”

Tenzin nodded, and walked briskly towards the shore. What awaited him there, he wasn’t sure. A rage-filled Korra? A furious Jinora? The Avatar State, ready to turn him into an icicle pincushion? Something even worse than that?

He rounded the bend to the beach, his grip on his staff white-knuckled. Jinora, Korra, and the Water Tribe girl were keeping the dead bison (Pepper, _Pepper_ , something in him wailed, he’d helped his daughter name her and raise him and he’d _killed_ her) afloat. The others— the firebender and the two children— were huddled on the bison’s saddle, the boy holding the children protectively.

Korra saw him, and her eyes flared blue-white, and she raised her arms. The waves receded.

_Shit_ was all he had time to think before water crashed over him. He pulled a sphere of air around him, barely managing to hold the onslaught at bay. When the wave subsided, the bison was in the shallows, and the Avatar was stalking towards him.

He spun up and away from water, away from anything that could form spears of ice—

Air caught him in the side like a bludgeon, and he fell hard to the sand.

“Why?” Jinora screamed, tears streaming down her face. “Why, dad? What did— what— what—” He levered himself to his feet with his staff. “Why did you _kill_ her?”

“Why did you do that?” the Avatar said, her voice eerily quiet.

“I had to stop you somehow,” Tenzin coughed. He pressed one hand to his side— his ribs were likely bruised. On the cliffs behind him, he heard the telltale _whump_ s of a herd of sky bison taking off. Safe. His family was safe. He leaned heavily on his staff, drew himself up to his full height.

“Stop me from what?”

“Corrupting the airbenders, like you did Jinora,” he said. “You’ve twisted— you’ve perverted the noble art of airbending into something— something monstrous, something evil, based on hate and destruction. I had to stop you from hurting the others.”

“Spirits, that’s what you think—” Korra cut herself off. “You know what? It doesn’t matter. You killed Pepper. You almost killed us.”

“I did what I had to. For my family.”

“I’m your family!” Jinora wailed. “I’m your daughter! Don’t I _matter_ to you?”

He looked at her. “Jinora, you… you helped the Avatar in Ba Sing Se.” Her brow furrowed in confusion. “You helped kill the Earth Queen.”

“I didn’t, dad—”

“Tenzin, she just—”

“Your bison was in all the reports, and _you_ were identified by three surviving guards,” he said wearily. “Don’t lie to me Jinora, I know you were there, I know you didn’t stop her— and if you didn’t fight her, if you didn’t try to stop her, then you’re responsible for what she did— you helped her.”

“Dad, I didn’t kill the Earth Queen and neither did Korra—”

“One of you had to,” he said. His chest ached. Spirits, it hurt, like cutting off a limb. “The Earth Queen’s chest was destroyed. Someone _tore the breath from her lungs_. With airbending, and you— and she— you’re the only ones…”

“It was Zaheer!” Korra shouted, throwing her arms in the air, and Tenzin barely had time to process that in the torrent of information: “He’s an airbender! He killed the Queen! It wasn’t Jinora, you selfish, ignorant, prejudiced—”

“Hey, guys? I hate to interrupt,” the water tribe girl said, “but these guys aren’t so good—”

Korra deflated instantly and looked to Jinora, who made an irritated noise (just like she used to when I told her she couldn’t stay up all night reading, he thought) and waved her away. Korra jumped onto the bison’s back, kicking up a spray of sand and saltwater. She turned away, knelt over the bodies of the hijra and the two children, water in her hands glowing blue-white.

Tenzin hesitated. He had a clear shot— but she was helping children— he’d already killed his daughter’s bison, what cost were the lives of two more children, to stop the Avatar’s madness?— but they were innocent—

“Don’t, dad,” Jinora said sharply.

“I have to end this, Jinora,” he said. This was— he was flying against the headwinds, pushing against what everything in him said was right— his daughter, his _daughter_ — but she had helped _kill_ someone, and that wasn’t the little girl he raised— “She’s— you’re— working with Zaheer. I can’t imagine why. He’s the reason the White Lotus put her in that horrible compound. And she agrees with him.” He shuddered. “She’s _insane_ , Jinora.”

“Dad—” Jinora’s expression crumbled, and rebuilt itself just as quickly into something bitter and detached. “You know, we didn’t even want to hurt anybody,” Jinora said, her voice hitching on _hurt_. “We just wanted airbender scrolls.” She looked away, at the Avatar kneeling on the back of her dead bison. She had moved away from the hijra, who was sitting up, clutching his chest. “We would’ve been perfectly happy— well.” She laughed, hollow and humorless. “Korra would’ve been happy not seeing you. I was looking forward to seeing Ikki and Meelo and eating Pema’s cooking again.”

Something twisted painfully in his gut.

“But I guess that’s never going to happen, is it.”

“Jinora—”

There was a flash on the horizon. A half-second later the low roar of an explosion rolled across the bay, and smoke rose from the skyline as a building crumbled in on itself.

“The Sato Tower,” he murmured. He turned back to his daughter— if he could still call her that. “And I’m to believe that doesn’t have anything to do with you.”

He saw Lin’s face in the set of Jinora’s jaw as she scowled and said, “We called in a bomb threat. Nobody got hurt.” He saw Aunt Toph in the hard line of her shoulders, and bit his tongue to stop himself from crying.

Another rolling boom shook the air, another smoke plume rose from the skyline. He shook his head, looked into eyes that reminded him so painfully of his father. “This isn’t you, Jinora—”

“Don’t you _fucking_ give me that, Dad!” she snapped. “All my life, you told me what to do! What to think, who to talk to, where to go, what to believe! And now I’m making my own choices—”

“And people are getting hurt,” he said. “People are _dying_ , Jinora.”

“Only people who deserve it,” she said, her scowl deepening.

He blinked, stunned, feeling like he’d fallen too far, landed too hard. “No one _deserves_ to die, Jinora.”

“Hou-Ting did!” Her eyes flashed with rage. “She _deserved_ to be skewered like Amon, she deserved worse! Letting her people live like that— _making_ them live like that— like rats in a cage, bleeding them dry so she could eat goat-veal and caviar every night, locking them up underground for questioning her, snatching airbenders in the night for some spirits-forsaken army— it was horrible—”

“She was the Earth Queen,” he said. “She was appointed by the spirits, and—”

“That’s _bullshit_ , dad! She was just a petty, selfish thug, abusing her power just like every other leader—”

All of the breath left his lungs, like he’d been struck. “Like me? Like the Council?” he said faintly.

Jinora faltered. “N-no, dad, you— you’re not…” And his daughter was still there. Still fighting, somewhere past the Avatar’s brainwashing.

He approached her slowly, his hands raised. “Listen to me, Jinora, this isn’t you. I know— I know Korra can be… convincing, but what she’s doing, it’s— it’s insane.” Indecision flickered across Jinora’s face. “She might think she knows what she’s doing, but— she doesn’t. We have to stop her. You have to help me stop her.”

His daughter glanced back at Korra, whose hands were pressed against the smaller child’s back, her eyes glowing.

“You killed Pepper,” she said softly.

“I— I did,” he said. His chest ached. “And I’m sorry. But Korra—”

“You _killed_ _Pepper_ ,” Jinora said, a bit louder. “Without asking what we were doing. Without knowing anything about us. You—” Something in her eyes, so similar to his father’s, changed— “Airbending is _freedom_ , dad, and— and you never— Pepper—”

Another explosion rolled across the bay— Parliament. Somehow, he knew. _Oh, Spirits, Lin… be safe, old friend._ He had to finish this. Fast. Before more innocents were hurt.

“Jinora, I’m sorry that I killed Pepper. It was an error in judgement, one I don’t plan to make again, but—”

“Are you, dad?” Jinora looked up, something dark and angry in her eyes. “Are you sorry you killed Pepper? Or are you sorry you lost my loyalty?”

He blinked, would’ve staggered in place had he not been leaning so heavily on his staff.

“Jinora, I don’t know what you want me to do— I’ll— I can’t make it up to you I know, but— but we can discuss this like civilized people once we’ve _stopped Korra_.”

“No, dad,” Jinora said. Quietly, firmly, in a voice that was so much like Lin’s it hurt. “You started this, you’re the reason Pepper is— is dead.” She swallowed. “You made your choice— you picked hurting innocent people— children and animals— over waiting to hear what we had to say. You assumed that because we’re fighting to free people from tyrants, that makes us just as bad as them. That’s who you are. That’s _not_ who I am.”

“You—”

“ _Tenzin._ ” The Avatar’s voice cracked through the air between them like thunder, low and thrumming with power, a reverberating echo that he could feel all the way to his bones, and he shuddered at hearing his own father’s voice layered behind Korra’s. He turned, saw the Avatar’s burning eyes, the fury in every line of her face.

“Avatar Korra,” he said coolly. Or as calmly as he could, faced with all the rage of the world.

“You nearly killed them,” the Avatar snarled. “You should thank every spirit and star there is that you didn’t.”

“You have to understand, Avatar, that was not my intention—”

“And yet you killed Pepper,” she said. “You knew what you were going to do, _you knew what could happen_ , and you did it anyway. I saw you. _Don’t lie to me!_ ”

The Avatar’s rage pressed down on him like a vise. He raised his chin. “I did what I believed was best, Avatar,” he said. “Don’t tell me you aren’t doing otherwise.”

“The difference being, _I’m_ not killing innocents. You attacked a peaceful group. You nearly killed— my friends. The closest thing to family I have. I should kill you for that.”

“Korra.” Jinora’s voice was pained. The Avatar’s jaw clenched.

“But I won’t.” The Avatar state faded. Korra’s gaze was still hard and icy, but the terrible weight was gone. Her feet touched damp sand. “I don’t kill people. Not anymore.” She closed her eyes, breathed deliberately. “Jinora, we should go. If I stay I can’t promise I’ll keep it together.”

“Just like that?” he said, frowning.

“We got what we came for,” someone behind him said, and he turned as far as he dared.

The hijra was standing behind him, a cloth bag slung over one shoulder. A bag bulging with scrolls.

He lunged for it without thinking— _The airbending scrolls, the only ones we have, treasures of a lost civilization, they_ cannot _take them_ — but the hijra dodged nimbly, the earth under him sliding towards the Avatar.

Korra shifted, and a fissure split the earth between Tenzin and her group. Her eyes gleamed for a half-second and lava bubbled in the chasm. “I promise we will return these, after we’ve had time to copy them,” she said. “Knowledge like this doesn’t belong to any one person. We’re simply sharing them with the world. There’s a lot of new airbenders, and if they can’t make it here they’ll still need to know how to control their powers.”

“You can’t— those aren’t yours to take,” he said, clenching his fists. “The knowledge of the airbenders does not belong to you.”

“It doesn’t belong to you, either,” Korra said. She passed the bag to Jinora, who took it without looking at him. “But if it makes you feel any better, this whole thing was Jinora’s plan.”

“Jinora…” he said softly, looking at his daughter. The only other airbending master in the world. Heir to the teachings of the monks. The only one of his children who remembered— who’d ever known— the way his father’s eyes crinkled when they smiled. His daughter, who had given them hope that their world could continue.

Jinora looked, very deliberately, at the Avatar. “We should go.”

He bit his lip. Lin was right. She was not their daughter. This wasn’t the girl he’d raised.

“Jinora,” he said, sharper. “If you leave now, with her, you can’t come back.” She turned to him, shock clear on her face. The Avatar seemed puzzled. “You have—” He swallowed. “By standing with the Avatar in this, you have betrayed every principle the Air Nomads stand for.” He drew himself up. “If you leave with her today, you _cannot return_. You will no longer be an Air Nomad, or an Airbending Master. You will find no home by our fires, or in our tents. You will be _shunned._ ”

The ancient words seemed heavy on his tongue. He could still remember his father teaching him these words, saying _this is the gravest punishment we had, Tenzin. Do not use it lightly_ , the shudder that ran through him at the idea of such a punishment.

His daughter—no, _Jinora_ , she was no longer his daughter no matter her choice— had gone pale and still, her eyes wide as saucers.

Then she swallowed, and her grip on the cloth sack tightened, and she pressed the bag into the Avatar’s hand. “Hold these. I need to take care of this, by myself.” The Avatar took the bag, confused and worried.

“Jinora—”

“Stand back. Make sure the kids are safe.” She tied her hair back into a wolf-tail, and swallowed. When she turned to face him once again, her face was cold and expressionless. “You want to kick me out? You want to exile me doing for what I think is right? Then fight me, _elder_.”

She attacked, and all Tenzin could think of was the fight.

He’d sparred with his father, and she was no Avatar, but he was tired, and injured, and heartsick, and—

Her blows were like spears of wind, strong as a hurricane, and soon he was on the defensive, dodging and weaving around her strikes as they danced across the island.

He outmatched her easily, but she was using a technique he didn’t recognize, brutal slices where airbending should have been circles; punching _through_ blows where airbending would have woven around, more heavy-handed and direct, and it was _hard_ to stand against such strength.

Slowly, in their dance of attack and defense, they moved away from the beach, and he thought if he could only make it to the stables, he could distract her for long enough to escape on Oogi and make it to the rendezvous point with the other airbenders. In the half-second between one of Jinora’s strikes and the next he sent a blast of air at her head, just strong enough to distract, to give him time to run—

A stone turned under his feet, and he stumbled. He fell to his his knees and Jinora stood over him, her arms moving in wide circles, her hands pulling at the air.

The air in his throat pulled _backwards—_

He scrabbled at his throat— something was holding him, choking him, and— He could feel the air around him, but it was gone from his head, there was nothing there— He grasped at the air but couldn’t hold it, his mind already going fuzzy— he gave another desperate, choking gasp— the last of the air left his lungs—

Something slammed into his side, wrenched him out of the not-air. He gulped in air, cool and soothing in his lungs.

The ground was soft, softer than he remembered. His arms were loose, boneless. His head was comfortable here, at the angle where he had fallen. He was content to breathe, at this point.

Above him, Ikki looked at her sister. Her sister looked back.

Darkness crept around the edges of his vision.

He gave into exhaustion.

The steady beep of an EKG machine woke him. Stark white interior, made almost blinding by the noon sunlight. He closed his eyes, but it did little to soothe his pounding headache. Scratchy sheets, uncomfortable bed. The Temple’s medical wing.

Already regretting the decision, he opened his eyes again, and tried to look around.

An empty wicker-backed chair, a stack of magazines: _Republic City Gazette_ , _Daily Star-Tribune_ , _Republic_ _Daily Mirror_. Pema’s usual array. That week’s issues. Couldn’t have been out long.

He tested his limbs. They were compliant, miraculously, and he managed to wriggle into a more upright position, but just doing so left him winded.

There was a glass of water next to the bed. He took it and drank slowly, remembering his mother’s short-lived healing lessons. His throat felt raw, battered, and the water didn’t help much, but his lips were cracked from dehydration. The water was stale, as if it had been sitting out overnight. He set the glass down with a sigh.

He heard voices out in the hallway— what they were saying, he couldn’t tell— and braced himself.

The door opened slowly, and a nurse poked his head in. “Oh! Councilman!” he said in a startled whisper. “You’re awake! Excellent. I’ll fetch Acolyte Pema—”

“Wait,” he croaked, and his throat throbbed in pain. “What—?”

The nurse hesitated. “I… think I should let your wife explain.” He ducked out of the room, leaving Tenzin alone in confused silence. A few minutes later, there was another knock, and the nurse entered once again, followed by Pema.

She rushed to his side, grasping his hand. “Oh, Tenzin,” she murmured. Her hand was warm against his, warm and solid, and _present_.

“What happened?” he managed to croak.

Pema hesitated, and looked to the healer, who gave a bewildered shrug. “You… how much do you remember?”

An odd question, he thought. “Jinora and I fought,” he said, squeezing his eyes shut. His own daughter, his little girl, turning her hand against him— “We fought, and I was trying to escape, to get to the bison, but I tripped and she…” He could still feel his breath being ripped from his throat, and fought a wave of nausea. “I don’t know what she did. I was suffocating.”

“A technique she seems to have picked up from Zaheer,” Pema said.

“Zaheer,” he murmured. Yes, that… made sense. Far more than his panicked mid-fight assumption that the Avatar had corrupted her. Spirits, he’d attacked his daughter on a hunch half formed of terror. “Is she still…?”

Pema bit her lip. “She’s gone.”

Gone? “She… she’s not…?”

“She left with the Avatar.” Pema leaned across the bed and clutched at his shoulders, the closest thing she could come to a hug. “I’m so sorry.”

“I… banished her,” he said slowly. “Before we fought. I told her if she left, she could not return.”

She sat up, took his hand. “Oh, _Tenzin_.”

“I couldn’t let her stay, and… corrupt the airbenders.” He sighed, though it hurt his battered throat.

“Ikki,” he said suddenly. “She saved me.”

“She’s still here,” Pema said, squeezing his hand. “She was waiting for you to wake up. Meelo and Tashi are with Ogodei, on their way to the Northern Air Temple. Evidently, Ikki saw the two of you fighting and jumped off of Oogi’s back, spirits help us.”

“Spirits, she’s going to be a handful,” he mumbled.

“She already is,” Pema said. “Well.” She sighed. “Here’s what we know. Chief Beifong says that most of the big corporate buildings downtown are gone. The Sato Tower, the Leiko-Takeo building, Parliament, the Council Building. Rubble.” She shook her head. “I don’t know what those terrorists were planning, but they managed to kill a _lot_ of people when they took out the Council Building. Raiko included.”

His blood ran cold. Raiko was dead?

“He was trapped under rubble,” Pema continued. Had he voiced his fears? “But when the police found him, his throat had been cut. So they’re ruling it a homicide, by the Red Lotus, for now.” She sighed again, and then smirked. “There is one silver lining. Chief Beifong managed to take out one of them. A third-eye freak. She seemed to be key to most of their plans— they ran once they realized she was dead— and now that she’s gone, hopefully they won’t have such an easy time of things.”

He sighed. “Spirits, so much death.”

“But you’re still here,” Pema said, squeezing his hand. “You’re here, and I’m here, and our family is safe, and the airbenders are safe. We need to focus on what matters right now.”

He smiled at her, squeezed her hand back. “You’re right,” he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, sorry it's been a while. School's been crazy. I'm not 100% happy with this but I figure the one person out there reading this might as well see where it's going.


	12. Zaheer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let go your earthly tether. Enter the void. Empty, and become wind.
> 
> If only it were so easy.

Let go your earthly tether. Enter the void. Empty, and become wind.

Let go your earthly tether.

Your earthly tether…

P’Li.

And Ghazan and Ming-Hua… but P’Li most of all.

_Let go._ Let go of her.

How could he? She was the only thing that had kept him sane, or something close to it, during the long, dark years of his imprisonment— and now he had to abandon her?

He would find another way. He knew it.

He had to.

Without P’Li, he would be— he would be nothing. She was all that he had, all that kept him sane. All that kept him human.

Meditation was getting him nowhere, he decided. He opened his eyes, letting the world around him flood back into his mind. The soft breeze brushed against his freshly-shaved scalp. P’Li was nearby, just as he left her.

He breathed in and out, once, and let himself slide into the spirit world.

Colors were brighter, sharper, and the air carried an electric tang that he had never tasted anywhere in the mortal world. He licked his lips, reveling in the _feelings_ of the place. One might worry— P’Li had, on more than one occasion— that he was addicted. And if he was, what of it? Who wouldn’t be addicted to that feeling of power, the knowledge of beings a thousand times greater than any human?

Besides, he always returned in the end.

Always returned to P’Li.

* * *

Let go your earthly tether. How simple he’d thought it. Let go of her. He would never _choose_ to, never, but he had thought— if she were gone, he would be free. He would be able to let go, if he had no other option.

_Idiotic._

He had known loss from an early age. His mother, his aunt, his cousin, all lost to the sickness. His uncles to the army. His neighbors, one by one, to the Dai Li, as discontent rippled down the street. His brother to poppy’s tears. His sister to childbirth. His nephew to starvation. Very nearly himself, to despair and rage, in those dark days after he first fled Ba Sing Se.

But all of it paled, _all of it_ , to the emptiness he felt now.

Two weeks.

Two weeks since she died.

It still hurt.

It always would.

He woke most days with a hollowness in his chest. He would go about his day, but he wouldn’t really be there. She was gone. His anchor, his sanity. He was adrift, empty, useless without her.

They never should have gone to Republic City. The Avatar’s plan, Ghazan snarled, but it had been a group decision. The Avatar had wanted airbender scrolls. He had wanted Raiko’s blood. And the rest… the rest had wanted to follow.

He had thought, if he lost her, that he would be able to accept it. That the jagged wound that her death would tear would be soothed, at least, by— freedom. From what, he wasn’t sure.

From Ghazan and Ming-Hua? They were all he had left, now. He had thought that he would be able to continue on his own without her, that her loss would be great but… survivable. And he had survived, no doubt about that, but oh, how he dearly wished he hadn’t.

Let go your earthly tether.

Apparently he had more than he thought.

One had been ripped from his grasp, but he clung to it nonetheless. And now that he knew the pain of losing one, he grasped the others all the tighter.

Ghazan and Ming-Hua. They couldn’t fill the void she had left, just as he could not for them. But he could never let go of them, he knew, the only people who truly knew him. Detachment was not worth that.

What a pitiful airbender he made. Perhaps he should have asked the Avatar to take his bending, to free him from this blessing he was so clearly unworthy of, that his own failure was making into a curse.

But, no. She would scoff at him. Criticise him.

It had only been two weeks. Two weeks of constant fighting, constant bickering. The Avatar’s band against Ghazan, Ming-Hua, and himself, though both he and the Avatar stayed out of the arguments more often than not. Himself, for sheer lack of caring. The Avatar’s reason, he couldn’t say.

Ghazan was getting twitchy, and Ming-Hua’s arms were turning to ice more often than not, now. If _she_ hadn’t— it still hurt to think— perhaps their original plan might have gone through. But—

“Zaheer.”

He looked up. They were camped, for the time being, near Laghima’s Peak, near the Northern Air Temple. The Avatar had said something about observing how Master Tenzin, still recovering from his run-in with his daughter, trained the few airbenders he’d managed to convince to join his “new air nation.” For his part, Zaheer had thought, perhaps— perhaps where Laghima found peace, he might as well.

As if he were in any way an equal to Guru Laghima.

He was meditating on the upper peak. He had to move that far from the camp at the base of the mountain, just to escape the Avatar’s energy, like a bonfire of spiritual light drawing him away from the guiding light of the spirit world. And now the Avatar was standing before him, not quite meeting his eyes, one hand worrying the carved jade pendant she always wore, the other clenched in a fist by her side.

He bent himself to his feet. “Avatar Korra,” he said, dipping his head. “I hope you will excuse me. I was meditating.” She likely wouldn’t care.

“Oh. Sorry to interrupt,” she said, not looking sorry an inch. “Look. I heard Ghazan say you wanted to go to the Fire Nation. To the Capitol.”

That had been the plan, yes, and as of late he found little use in making decisions. “There are… other despots, Avatar,” he said slowly, searching within himself for some of that old fire. No. All of his fire was gone, extinguished along with her. But the resolve remained, almost by rote. The resolve to _help_. “There are people who need our help, people toiling under the heels of corrupt rulers. We will solve that.”

“The people of Ba Sing Se still need us,” the Avatar said. She shifted her weight, and the air around them shifted as well. “More than the Fire Nation. They don’t know how to be free. That’s why we agreed to return.”

“An ostrich-horse, even when led to a trough, cannot be forced to drink,” he said. Xai Bau’s favorite lesson. It seemed lost on her.

“They didn’t want to live like they did, and they don’t want to live like they _do_ ,” the Avatar said, the breeze around them picking up. “And we didn’t lead them to the trough. We killed the farmer and kicked over the rain barrel. It’s not their fault they don’t know how to deal.”

Why could she not see? Why did she care so much for those who would throw away their freedom, their lives, at the whims of another? Why did she insist on fighting, for those who would only hate her for it? How could she bear to _feel_ so strongly? He wished, distantly, for even a scrap of the Avatar’s rage, for her passion, for—anything, _anything_ to fill the emptiness in his chest.

“They do not want freedom. We cannot force it on them,” he said, his voice sounding hollow to his own ears. “And—” It was her wish to see the palace burn, he almost said, but choked on the words. “And I would rather go to Riau.”

A muscle tensed in the Avatar’s jaw. “And if I said I wouldn’t let you?”

Ah, there was a bit of something. Annoyance, perhaps. The old frustration at being _underestimated_ again and again, because of his size, because of his lack of bending, because of his soft-spoken nature. He clenched his fist. It would do, for now. “Then I would advise you against putting me in a cage, Avatar, and remind you what happened the last time a despot tried to dictate my actions.”

Ghazan and Ming-Hua were on the lower plateau. He could reach them with a single jump and—

And then what? Fight the Avatar, capture her as they’d planned, destroy the Avatar spirit? Their plan hinged on P’Li, and— and he wasn’t sure he could manage without her. He wasn’t sure he wanted to.

Get to Ghazan and Ming-Hua first. Figure things out later.

As he came to his decision, the Avatar’s eyes narrowed. Before she could react further, he struck the ground with a wide blast of air, kicking up grit, and blasted the Avatar away from him; gathered air around himself; and leapt, clearing as much distance between himself and the deadly weapon that was the Avatar. He landed lightly midway down the slope, and jumped again, landing next to their campsite.

Ghazan rolled out of the tent, ready to move. “Zaheer?”

“The Avatar disagrees with our plans. I… reacted strongly.”

“Finally,” Ming-Hua said, emerging behind him, her arms sharpened into points. “Are we doing this?”

He hesitated.

“We need to make a decision!” Ghazan shouted, liquefying half the peak with a sweep of his arms to form a barrier.

“She—” Zaheer said, and that was all he had time for before the Avatar crashed down between them, landing like a meteor. He floated over the tremor. Ghazan shifted with it, and Ming-Hua staggered back a few paces.

“What the _fuck_!” the Avatar shouted, her fists clenched but not bearing flames— yet. “I try to talk to you and you almost knock me off the fucking mountain!”

“Decision made,” Ghazan growled.

He shifted into a defensive stance. “I misread your intentions, Avatar,” he said smoothly. “My apologies.” He twitched an eyebrow at Ming-Hua, standing behind the Avatar. Ming-Hua nodded, and sharpened her arms into spikes of ice.

“I just don’t get—”

Ming-Hua shifted her stance, just slightly, but it was enough of a sign for the Avatar to swerve out of the way of the ice blade that came slicing down, exactly where her head had been, and the Avatar whirled and kicked out a circle of flame, which Ming-Hua barely blocked with an arm, and the Avatar yelped, “ _Why_ are you trying to kill me!”

“You’re a threat,” Ghazan said, hurling a boulder the size of his whole body at the Avatar, who shattered it a foot away from her and formed into armor, and punched a lance of golden-red flames toward him as a distraction to give her enough time to swing under Ming-Hua’s next strike, and she _yanked_ on Ming-Hua’s arm, threw her halfway across the mountain like she was throwing a sling.

“What am I a threat to!” she shouted, kicking a large rock thrown by Ghazan out of the way.

“You’re the world’s highest authority,” Ghazan said. “No one can be free while the Avatar lives.”

Zaheer blinked. He needed to move. He needed to help.

Ghazan liquefied several rocks and spun them into shuriken, which he threw at the Avatar, forcing her to dodge as they whipped around her.

She couldn’t take the three of them at once.

“A little help!” Ming-Hua shouted, pulling herself onto the outcropping above the Avatar’s head and launching herself down with one arm turned to ice.

Something hardened in the Avatar’s eyes, and she pulled both arms sideways and the outcropping crumbled underneath Ming-Hua’s arm, pulling her down to the plateau just behind Ghazan, and the boulders landed between the Avatar and Ghazan, catching two of his shuriken and deflecting the third. The Avatar kicked the boulders toward Ghazan, who shattered one and rolled out of the way of the other—

It hit Ming-Hua instead.

The boulder knocked her backwards, towards the edge, her arms catching her but snapping from the strain.

“Ming-Hua!” Ghazan shouted, and he swept out an arm to catch her with a shelf of stone— Zaheer turned, gathered air beneath himself to jump and catch her— The Avatar struck as both their backs were turned, and—

He felt something prickle over his scalp, felt the air behind him move in response, spun with airbender agility under the _something_ , felt the air around him shiver and _roar_ , and rose just in time to see a lance of cold, blue light strike Ghazan in the back.

Ghazan cried out and staggered forward, away from the Avatar.

He turned to Ming-Hua—

The Avatar struck the plateau with her heel, and the mountain under Ming-Hua crumbled away, and her scream was swallowed by the mountain winds.

Ghazan collapsed in front of him, one arm outstretched as if to catch her.

The silence was punctuated by the Avatar’s hoarse breathing.

“It’s over, Zaheer.”

_Let go your earthly tether. Enter the void. Empty, and become wind._

“I can take your bending. You can go in peace.”

Ghazan was dead. Ming-Hua was dead. P’Li was dead.

“I don’t want to kill you,” she warned. “I don’t— I don’t like killing.” She swallowed. “Just surrender. Please.” Her hands held out in a traditional firebending attack position. P’Li would have criticized her form. Telegraphing her intentions too clearly. “Please.” She made no move towards him. Ghazan would have attacked her. “ _Please._ ” Her hands were shaking. Ming-Hua would have scoffed. Weakness.

_Let go your earthly tether._

P’Li, who’d been dead for _two weeks_. Ghazan, lying before him, eyes blank. Ming-Hua, vanished into the abyss around them.

_Enter the void._

He took a step back, towards the edge of the peak, and then another.

“Zaheer—”

_Empty, and become wind._

What was he, without them?

_Empty._

He stepped backward, surrendered to the wind.

“Don’t—!”

And the wind accepted him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy new year, everybody. May your 2018 be better than your 2017.


	13. Interlude: Kamal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I fell asleep smoking so I'd wake up on fire, because that might get me out of bed for a while  
> and back into battle with the things that I breathe, and the holes in my arms, and the way that I think,  
> And if freedom is doing what I want, well that means i gotta know what is, not just what it isn't.
> 
> — "We Are All Compost in Training," Ramshackle Glory

They were four days out of Ba Sing Se in the back of a stolen truck, and all Kamal could think was how bad he wanted a smoke. (How bad he wanted a hit, but if he pretended hard enough that all he was craving was that sweet rush of nicotine, he might be able to ignore the real itch.) But cigarettes were hard to come by this far east. Tobacco was a western crop, grown in the green valleys between the Kolau mountains, and it was stupid expensive this side of the desert. Besides, they had better things to spend their money on than an ex-addict’s coping mechanisms.

Kamal watched the countryside roll past, and tried to fight down his boredom.

Truth was, there was nothing for him to _do_. He’d outlasted his usefulness. He was a good lightning-bender, but so was Korra; he was a quick thinker, but so was Ling; he was a good street medic in a pinch, but Tikivik was an actualhealer; he could talk his way out of anything, but Jinora was an airbender and a princess and a diplomat besides. He was pointless, out here.

Everywhere they went, there were signs of the Earth Queen’s death. Outside the larger cities, signs were posted warning of increased bandit activity, recommending that citizens stay inside the walls. Some town gates were draped in black, mourning their beloved lost monarch. Korra always passed those by. Most small towns had surrounded themselves with hastily-built walls, more decorative than actually useful, Kamal thought. He could knock them down with a few good hits, and none of that fancy lava stuff Ghazan had used in Ba Sing Se.

Everyday workers, the day laborers and factory workers and farmers Korra liked to spend time with, didn’t seem to care much. “Kings and queens come and go, but the nobles stay the same,” they would say to Korra. Others would shrug and say, “Makes no difference to me who’s sitting on that fancy chair. Crops grow either way.”

He didn’t know how to talk to people out here. Everyone was straightforward, blunt, no dancing around topics necessary or wanted. In the city it was easy: who knows who’s listening, so be quiet about it, be careful, say what you mean, but say it slant.

Some days, after they had made camp, he would lie on his back and look up at the sky, nothing around him but the tall grass, maybe a few scrubby trees. Just the endless blue above him, threatening to swallow him whole. He would stare until the blue burned into his eyes, until he had to cling to the grass around him to fight the feeling that he was falling forever, and then he would close his eyes, fighting the vertigo, and wonder what in Korra’s name he was _doing_ with his life.

* * *

“Kamal. I need your help.”

He tipped his hat up, squinting at the sudden brightness. Then Tikivik loomed over him, blocking out the sun. He closed his eyes again. “Seems unlikely,” he said, pushing his hat back down.

She nudged him in the ribs with her toe, and said, “No, really. I need your help with something.”

He groaned and sat up, glaring at her. “Why? What can I do that nobody else with us can? We’ve got a spirits-damned princess, a shaman, and the _Avatar_ , and you think _I_ can do anything to help?”

“Yeah,” she said, and held out a hand.

He debated just lying down again, going back to thinking about his own insignificance and uselessness under the endless sky, but his curiosity got the better of him. Anything _he_ would be useful for would be worth seeing, he figured. So he took Tikivik’s hand and let her pull him to his feet.

“So what’s this about?”

Tikivik opened her mouth, and then closed it, and then said, “Okay, listen. This is going to sound like an insult, but I promise it’s not, it’s a _good_ thing.” Kamal raised one eyebrow. “You’re the least spiritual person I’ve ever met.”

Oh. That _did_ sound like an insult. He scratched his chin, tried to figure out how insulted he should be.

“No, listen, that’s not a bad thing!” Tikivik said. “Look, something weird is going on with Korra. Something spirit-y, and I need you to help me figure out what’s going on.”

Something weird and spirit-y could mean anything, really, and what were the odds he could actually do anything? Not good. But at the very least it would give him something to fill the time between waking up and going to sleep. He sighed. “Fine. Sure. What do you need me to do?”

Tikivik smiled. “We’re going to go talk to the Face-Stealer.”

* * *

Kamal watched, feeling as if he was intruding on something sacred, as Tikivik carefully prepared a pipe and muttered in a language he didn't understand. And then be realized that he didn't recognize the leaves in it, and started to have second thoughts.

“Um,” he said. “What is that?”

“Salvia. Seer’s sage.”

“Oh,” he said, and had third, fourth, and fifth thoughts. Because had tried just about everything he could get his hands on in the two years between Wenyan and the anarchists (thank spirits Ling had been there to stop him from pitching himself head-first into the abyss of crime and self-loathing), and seer’s sage was just about the only thing that he had _never_ wanted to try again.

_Do you know what you're doing_ , he wanted to ask, but when it came to spirits Tikivik always did. So instead he said, “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Mmm.” She didn’t look up from what she was doing. “Kava isn’t easy to find outside the Fire Nation, and even if I had some it's not ideal for this situation. I don’t need you totally out of your gourd. And I don’t like my odds of pulling _you_ into the spirit world by myself, even if we were near the Poles— this far it’d be impossible.” She stoked the fire and tied the tent flaps shut. “Let me guess, you tried this for kicks and had a really bad trip.”

He eyed the fire, and the pipe, filled with its innocuous herb. “Yeah,” he said. “It was enough to put me off drugs for a whole month.”

She smiled, and settled across the fire from him. “That’s because you weren’t doing it right.” She held the pipe out to him. “Would you?”

He hesitated a moment, then sparked a fire in the bundle of leaves and took a long drag.

It was like breathing in after being underwater. The familiar roughness of smoke in his lungs— and then he exhaled, and the moment broke. It wasn’t a cigarette, and it definitely wasn’t heroin. He passed the pipe over the fire, and Tikivik quickly took a drag as well, before setting it aside.

“Seer’s sage isn’t a party drug,” she said. “It’s not like alcohol or ditch weed or poppy’s tears. It doesn’t do anything _fun_.” Her voice started to drift sideways. “If you use it right, it pulls your soul loose, into the space between the worlds.” Kamal blinked. It was like sunlight was breaking across his face, sunlight after a long, cloudy day, bright and glorious. “I’ll make sure we land in the spirit world, don’t worry,” he heard someone say.

He blinked and space around him distorted, vanished, returned, warm and bright and close and welcoming. Space turned around him, and he looked at it, and saw the sky for what it was: an air bubble, a pocket of sunlight and joy, filled with millions upon millions of spirits, people, happy and sad and angry and fearful and triumphant and vindictive and proud, everything he had ever felt, so had _everyone else_ , because they were really all the same, in the end. How had he thought that he would fall into it? Into that eternal blue-ness? The sky would catch him before he fell, because if he didn’t he would burst the bubble and everyone else would— would—

He landed, hard, on his back.

“Welcome back,” Tikivik said. She held out her hand, and he had a distinct feeling of deja vu.

“What was…” he tried to put into words everything he had just felt, seen, known, the shining clarity and the comforting press of space and the harmony he’d felt for the briefest moment. Failed, and resorted to a gesture. “That?”

“I’m guessing you got a pretty weird trip, then,” she said, grinning. “ _That_ was passing through the veil between the worlds.”

For the first time, he looked around. The sky was a million different shades, every color of the sunset and more, all at once— the green-blue before a tornado, the black of a hurricane, the bruised apple-peach of a storm-day sunrise. Every time he blinked, the color changed, and when he turned his eyes back to Tikivik—

“Oh,” he said, because she was _glowing_. She was shining, like a fire, like a lamp, like a lighthouse guiding home lost ships. “You’re… bright.” And then he looked down at his own skin, and said “Oh” again, because— she was right. Least spiritual person in the world. “And I’m not.”

“Don’t worry,” she said. “That’s actually a very, very good thing.”

He blinked. The world around them changed, in a thousand little ways, greens and blues changing places and the sun moving across the sky that suddenly went from purple-pink to pale snow-coming white. “It is?”

“You should see Korra in here. You think _I’m_ bright… I couldn’t look directly at her the first time we were here together.” She smiled fondly, shook her head. The trees around her rustled, as if in sympathy with her fondness for the Avatar. “Light is spiritual strength— but it also makes me a big glowing target for the less amicable spirits. The Face-Stealer among them. Which is where you come in.” She gestured to his completely lightless skin. “ _You_ are completely invisible to spirits. Together, we’re totally unremarkable. Unless you’re addressing them directly, they won’t notice you at all. ”

That explained why of all them he’d never wound up the target of jealous spirits. “And here I just thought it was good luck,” he said.

“You could call it that,” Tikivik said, an odd smile on her face. “Now let’s get going. We’ve got a centipede-eel to speak with.”

He couldn't say how long they walked. The sun moved erratically through the sky, breaking through the shifting clouds occasionally to cast bright, inviting sunbeams that twice Tikivik had to stop him from walking into. (Spirit traps, she called them; if he walked into one, he would either be trapped like a spider-fly in amber, or burned to a crisp, depending on how the spirits were feeling.) Moving in the spirit world didn’t feel quite _real_. When he wasn’t focusing on it, his surroundings blurred away, smearing together into vague shapes and colors. It was like moving in a dream, things distorted and distant, until he focused on something and it was hyper-real, almost painfully so. The forest they were walking through seemed to repeat itself (he swore he ducked under the same branch at least five times) but Tikivik promised him that they were making progress, so he pushed away his anxieties.

Eventually, she was proven right: the treeline broke on a series of stone pillars that formed a bridge to an island with a great, twisting tree.

“The home of the Face-Stealer,” Tikivik said. “He’s freed, now, so he can follow us out. Be very careful. Show no emotion, or he’ll take your face.”

“Yeah, I got the lecture,” Kamal said, staring at the tree. Branches reached towards the sky, suddenly gone bruise-yellow, like clawed hands. The trunk spilled over the island, roots twisting down into an abyss that seemed bottomless, but where the tree met the island there was a triangle of pure, engulfing blackness. He could feel it, even from here, like an icy finger sliding down his spine. Everyone knew who Koh the Face-Stealer was, what he did and what his rules were, but Kamal had never thought he’d actually have to face him. “What’s he the spirit of, again?”

“Death,” Tikivik said.

There was a sound, then, like bones rattling together, like the first pebbles of an avalanche skittering across a rock face, like icy tree branches clacking against one another.

“So close, little spark, and yet so dreadfully far.”

Kamal felt his blood run cold.

The tree seemed to swell, to grow horribly close, the black void tangled in its roots filling his vision. Tikivik reached up to hold her necklace, and the brightness around her pulsed.

The blackness shattered against her light, and Kamal realized that they had moved across the pillars, onto the island, to stand before the darkness. Which wasn’t as dark as he had thought: it was a tunnel, leading down into a cave under the tree.

“The little thief,” the voice said. It sounded like dry paper turning in an empty library, like rotten ice cracking under strain. (The seer’s sage must have made him poetic, he thought distantly, as Tikivik started down the steps and he was forced to follow.) “And you brought a friend.”

“Little thief?” Kamal said, unable to help himself. He barely managed to keep the curiosity off of his face.

The stairs ended in a circular room, cavernous, the walls like tree roots and stone at the same time, an enormous stalactite hanging from the ceiling. And around the stalactite—

“Honored Face-Stealer,” Tikivik said, and the _thing_ around the stalactite— Koh, he knew, the _Face Stealer_ — smiled, his teeth too long, his body long and segmented like a centipede, hundreds of legs clicking over each other as he shifted, too gracefully for a body that should have been unwieldy but moved like an eel-hound, tightening around the stalactite to dip his face closer to them. His face was suspended like an enormous eyeball between a membrane that looked like an eyelid turned inside out, damp and red and raw-looking, and the membrane shut with a _squick_. Kamal barely stopped his shudder of revulsion. It opened into a different face: dark hair spilled out from behind the membrane, a dark, full-lipped Water Tribe woman smiling with cold blue-gray eyes.

The legs closest to his face curled in anticipation, and Koh’s smile widened into a predatory grin. “Tell me, does the Avatar know that her pet thief is here?”

“Thief?” Kamal repeated again, because he felt like that really warranted some explaining, but Tikivik waved away his question.

“The Avatar,” Tikivik said, with deliberate calm, “is busy. And I have questions.”

“Mmm, yes, your kind always does.” Koh darted out three legs to grab Tikivik’s face, and Kamal nearly reached for his firebending before Tikivik elbowed him swiftly in the side. He coughed, but all of Koh’s attention was taken up by inspecting Tikivik’s face, turning it this way and that, and he didn’t notice Kamal’s slip. “What will it be, little thief? You won’t escape unscathed a second time, not after your Avatar’s little slip-up.” His face closed and reopened, a blue-nosed monkey’s grinning fangs an inch from her nose. “ _There’s nowhere you can go that I won’t find you._ ”

“Stop it!” Kamal snapped, and Koh turned fully to face him, his face blinking away into the noh mask.

“Ah. The void,” he said, a hungry glint in his eye, and pushed Tikivik aside to grip Kamal’s face. His claw-legs were shockingly cold, smooth like a beetle’s carapace, but there was no mistaking the strength behind them. Kamal got the distinct impression that he was standing between a whale-wolf’s jaws. “You thought he would protect you, didn’t you, little thief.” His teeth glinted in the low light, too long and too sharp for the almost-human face. “You thought he would distract me. I would be so busy focusing on this little void-spark that I wouldn’t notice as you stole from me a _third_ time.”

Koh’s smile slipped away, replaced by a searching hunger. His face blinked, an old man’s thin mustache and long eyebrows drooping over a lined, weary face. “How did you make it here, little void? It couldn’t have been easy, a spirit like yours. What was it? Kava? Diviner’s sage?” The old man was replaced by the blue oni. Koh smirked behind the fangs. “Oh, but you were so _afraid_ of that, weren’t you? Afraid of what you’d find if you went looking for the truth. The proof of exactly how _little_ you matter. How little people around you actually _care_.” Kamal swallowed, forced himself to not pull away from the spirit’s crushing grip. A whale-wolf who knew his past (and his present and his future, too, knew exactly how many scars there were on his arms, who knew _how_ they got there.) “Poor little void, what happened to you, to put your own light out like that, hmm? How often have you tried to find me and failed?”

“Answers for answers,” he said, in a flash of inspiration, and Koh pushed him away with a _tch_.

“All of yours combined couldn’t be worth _one_ of mine,” Koh said, and turned back to Tikivik, whose face had regained some color.

“Answers for answers, Koh,” she said firmly. “We want to know what’s happening to Korra.”

Koh laughed, turned his scaled back on them, tipped his face up to the roof of the cave. Kamal let his face sag into terror, his heart racing. What he wouldn’t give to be lying under the clear blue sky right now, daydreaming about oblivion rather than staring it in the face. “You’ll have to be more specific, thief. Any number of things are happening to her at any given moment.”

“You know what I mean. She’s acting strange. Referencing things that never happened. Knowing things she shouldn’t. Talking about people she’s never met like they’re old friends.”

“Answers for answers, little thief?” Koh said, and turned back fast enough that Kamal nearly lost his face to his terror. Koh laughed, the blue-nose’s fangs glinting in the low light. “Well, answer me this. What do _you_ , with all your mortal wisdom, think is happening to her?” Tikivik swallowed, and said nothing. Koh paced around her, his legs skittering on the stone floor. “What, no guesses? You’re always so keen to steal spirit knowledge, but when a spirit asks you for a little in return, you shy away?”

“I think she’s going insane,” Tikivik whispered, staring at the floor, her face blank.

Koh laughed again, the same horrible rasping noise as before. And then he whipped around to face Kamal, and Kamal stumbled back (but somehow, miraculously, didn’t flinch.) “And you, little void, do you share the thief’s utterly _mortal_ opinion?”

“I don’t… I don’t know,” he said. “Korra’s been acting weird, yeah, but she’s the Avatar. A little weird is normal.”

“How predictably _human_ ,” Koh sneered, blinking his face to a fanged, snarling blue oni. “A narrow world-view for a narrow-minded species.” He turned his back to them, and Tikivik managed a look at him that seemed both _don’t get us killed_ and _I hope_ I _don’t get us killed._ “Why my sister cares about you, I’ll never understand.” He paced around them, and in the cave the sound echoed and overlapped and became the sound of an icy waterfall. “Hmm. What _is_ the right price for this knowledge? What does the Owl charge these days? More I’d imagine, since he had to bring his library here.” He paced endlessly, his voice low and hypnotic. “ _Hmmm_. Void.” Koh loomed in front of him, suddenly, his face an old man with a permanent sneer. “What, tell me, should I ask of the little thief? Her eyes? Her voice?” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tikivik flinch. “Her childhood? Her love for the Avatar?” He turned back to Tikivik, ran a claw gently over one of the tattooed lines on her face. She shivered, though her expression remained blank. “Should she return what she stole?”

Kamal swallowed. “I think… I think you should tell Tikivik what she wants to know. And then let her decide what she’ll pay.”

“The honor system, mmm?” Koh chuckled. “Predictably human.”

“My waterbending,” Tikivik said suddenly. “My waterbending, for knowledge of Korra’s condition and how to fix it. Or stabilize it, if it can’t be fixed.”

“Tikivik—” Kamal said, because she couldn’t sacrifice her bending like that, Korra would never want her to—

“An interesting offer,” Koh said, circling around them, the noh mask’s eyes filled with delight. “But of what use to me is a mortal’s waterbending?”

“He’s playing with you,” Kamal said, his fists clenched. What he wouldn’t give for his firebending right now, to be able to blast the smirk off of the old spirit’s face.

“That’s what I do, little void.” Koh turned his back on him, bent down to look Tikivik square in the eye. “Your waterbending. Convince me.”

“My waterbending,” Tikivik repeated. “It’s central to my identity. You can’t have my face or my tattoos but you can have the next best thing.” She swallowed. “I won’t be half as good a shaman without it, and I know _that_ will make you happy.”

The blue oni’s smirk was agreement enough, and Koh gripped Tikivik’s face again with his foremost legs. And then hesitated. “What’s to say, little thief, you wouldn’t simply ask the Avatar to return it to you?”

“My word as a shaman and a friend of the spirits, honored Face-Stealer,” Tikivik said, her voice not wavering. “I might be a thief, but I’ve never broken my word. Ask the Owl, if you don’t believe me.”

“Very well,” Koh said. “I accept your offer.” Koh dragged her closer, one leg resting on her forehead, one on her sternum.

“Tikivik, don’t—” Kamal started to say, started to reach out to stop her himself, but Koh’s eyes flashed and Tikivik’s eyes rolled back in her head and it was too late. Kamal lunged to catch her before she hit the ground, and Koh backed away, his legs clicking against one another, tapping agitatedly on the walls and floor.

“Interesting,” he murmured. “Oh, _very_ interesting.”

“Tikivik, come on, wake up,” Kamal said, shaking her gently, not even bothering to hide his fear. He was a passable street medic, sure, but spirit shit? “Wake up, come on, you have to—”

Her eyes flew open, and refocused after a split second. “Kamal,” she said blankly.

“Oh thank spirits,” he gasped, but then she pushed him away, stood up.

“Honored Face Stealer,” she said, her voice still emotionless. “We had a deal.”

“That we did, little thief.” The noh mask blinked away, replaced by the Water Tribe woman. Her blood-red lips curled into a smile. “Far be it from me to break my word. Search your memories; you’ll find the answers you’re looking for.”

She looked into the distance for a minute, her eyes flicking back and forth. Finally, she nodded. “Thank you,” she said, and bowed, and grabbed Kamal’s wrist. “Come on.”

* * *

Kamal blinked. He’d fallen backwards at some point. The ground was hard beneath him, and his head was dangerously close to a smouldering fire.

Fuck. That was the weirdest fucking trip, _including_ the time with the poppy’s tears and the dancing rhino-yaks.

He blinked again. Tikivik was sitting across the fire, sobbing silently into her hands.

It flashed back to him in an instant: spirit world. Koh. Waterbending gone. Not just a weird trip, then.

“Um,” he said. Because, along with spirit shit and the intricacies of politics, he was very bad at emotions. “What… happened?”

“Korra looked into the Mirror of Souls,” she said bitterly. And then, after a moment where he didn’t respond (was that supposed to mean something? Was it a literal mirror?) she sighed. “It’s a meeting point. Everything, every world, every single of the infinite possibilities of the universe. If you look into it, it all gets— poured into your head. Your brain overloads from information, it drives you crazy, even if it takes a while. And Korra looked into it. Like the brave, stupid, _wonderful_ idiot she is.” She tucked her knees up against her chest, squeezed her eyes shut, sighed heavily. “Spirits, what do I even _do_. I can’t fix— fix having your brain melted like that.”

Kamal bit his lip, pressed the fire into cold ash, and stood. “Well. First thing’s first, let’s see Korra about getting your waterbending back.”

She blinked up at him. Her eyes were red, puffy from crying, her face blotchy. “What?”

“Your waterbending. Korra can give it back.”

“ _No_ ,” she said, as if he’d suggested she stab him in the eye. “No, I can’t— I made a promise to Koh.”

“Yeah, and he didn’t help you like you asked,” Kamal said. One step at a time, he figured— Korra would keep for a while longer. Enough time to get Tikivik straightened out, at least.

“No, no, he did, he…” She trailed off, a puzzled expression creeping over her face. “Hmm. He… she said… but— huh. If I could—”

The tent flaps opened, bringing a cool, sharp, sea-scented breeze into the stuffy tent. “Guys,” Jinora said, stepping in, “we’ve got a problem.” She held out a crumpled piece of paper, a message hastily inked in smeared characters.

_Empire looking for Korra. Kuvira in Bailong. Run._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, Koh. Can you tell he's my favorite villain?

**Author's Note:**

> Questions? Comments? Concerns? Say hi to me on [tumblr](http://triangulor.tumblr.com/ask)!


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